The Strike Rebels: Chapter 2

img_1216

Realmers. Marshmallows. Extraterrestrials.

IT’S HEEEEERRRREEEEEEEE.

The Strike Rebels: Chapter 1


 

I wake up to Dianna screaming in my face: “WAKE UP, SLEEPY HEAD!”

“But it’s like, five o’ clock,” I groan, rolling back under my covers.

“I know,” Dianna says. “So get up.”

The other girls snicker.

“Get dressed.” She says. “Breakfast is in a half hour.”

And that was just the start of the day.

I change my ash-stained dress in to a pretty green one. It was the one of the few belongings that Hattie and I had managed to save.

I looked out the window. Raining again.

Can I tell you a secret?

I love storms. Especially lightning. I don’t know why. It’s just so comforting. I love staring out the window and watching the drops smear down the window. I imagine that I am up in the clouds, like a bird, flying gracefully over the storm–

“Everyone,” Dianna instructs, interrupting my daydream. “Line up.”

“You’re not the boss of us,” I say childishly.

“Hmmm, let me think,” She says sarcastically. “Last time I checked, I was.”

iu.png

After breakfast, we had to get right to chores. Miss Fontez was even meaner than Dianna.  I knew there was something fishy about the politeness they had displayed.

I had to be on fireplace duty. Ick. Now both my dresses have cinder on them.

I spend the rest of the day cooking and cleaning and mending and washing. I felt like Cinderella.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

Miss Fontez pulls me over while I was washing dishes. Everybody stares.

“Try these on, Anika-Belle,” she says, beckoning to three ugly uniforms. They are brown dresses with petticoats and a little apron on them. The words “Miss Fontez’s Home for Girls” were embroidered on the apron in orange, clashing with the rest of the dress. “These are your uniforms,” she said. Suddenly I notice that all of the other girls were wearing them, too.

I am forced to try on those horrible old-fashioned “uniforms” on and stand patiently while Miss Fontez adjusts, and adjusts, and adjusts, until at last one of them fit. They are itchy and scruffy and just overall ew.

Then it was school. I had to be in class with the third graders. Even though I am in sixth grade! Not fair.

After school, it was dinner, than more chores, then bed.

I am exhausted. I close my eyes and fall asleep, the other girls still working on that……whatever it was.

iu

I am running. My legs are going to fall off. My lungs are going to burst.

Miss Fontez is chasing me with a uniform. I keep running.

It is storming. Yes! I turn in to a bird and fly over the storm.

When the storm stops, I see my house. It is on fire. I swoop down. I turn back in to Anika-Belle.

My parents are trapped. “HELP!” They scream. “HELP!”

The volunteer fireman aren’t here yet. They haven’t noticed our burning house.

“SAVE US!” I scream.

Mrs. Hattie comes and drags me away. Mother and Father are left to die.

“NOOO!” I shriek. “NOO! NOO!”

Mrs. Hattie drags me to a dungeon. Dianna tells me I am stupid and worthless. The girls laugh at me.

I wake up with a start.


 

Are you excited for Chapter 3? What do you think of it so far?

img_0817-9

Advertisements

Raindrops | An Ode to Comet

Dedicated To Comet
Plip. Plop.

I stare out the window.

Pitter-Patter.

It seems like the sky has destined me for a miserable day. 

Drip. Drip. 

I am happy for her

Plink. Plink.

But sad for me.

Plonk. Dump.

I can’t say goodbye.

How lucky I am to have known someone so hard to say goodbye to.

-Whinnie the Pooh

The Strike Rebels: Chapter 1

Background Image credit: https://videogames.desktopnexus.com/wallpaper/761259/

Hello Marshmallows, Realmers, Extraterrestrials!

Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about Taco Bout it Tuesday, I have decided it will be every other week from now on. Which is kind of pointless because there is only one left but whateveh.

What with Taco Bout Tuesday coming to a close (WAAAHHHHHH *Sobs uncontrollably*) I decided I should finally start The Strike Rebels series! (Remember This Post?)

CHAPTER 1

In the POV of Anika-Belle

I took several deep breaths as I walk up the steps of Miss ‘s Home for Orphaned Girls, my hand clutching Mrs. Hattie’s for dear life.

I pull up my scarf, attempting to prevent the cold air that was whipping my face violently. It was a rainy and cold winter day. Normally I love storms like this, but today was different.

Mrs. Hattie knocks her enormous fists on the huge wooden door of the orphanage. I stare at the ground. I am afraid to look up. I am afraid of the future, of what’s ahead.

The door opens and I rush inside, out of the cold and in to the warm, fire-lit parlor of the orphanage.

Mrs. Hattie scolds me for not wiping my shoes and giving the host a proper greeting. I can tell through her eyes that she wants to beat me. Thankfully, another “civilized” adult is in the room and the chubby woman refrains from spanking me.

I do as I am told, still staring at the floor, not daring to look up.

“Hello. I am Miss Fontez. You must be Anika-Belle.”

I am forced to look up. A woman with curly blond hair in the most elegant dress I have ever seen in my entire life is extending her hand.

I don’t want a beating from Miss Hattie, so I reluctantly grasp her hand and shake it hard. I hope I damaged those perfectly manicured fingernails with those prissy rings on them.

“Good day, Miss Fontez,” I say through gritted teeth. “I am Anika-Belle. Of course I am Anika-Belle. Who else could I be?” Despite this woman’s beauty, I don’t trust her huge, fake smile. I don’t trust anybody these days, in fact.

“A feisty one!” The woman exclaims softly, the fake smile I seem to loathe so much still plastered on to her face.

Mrs. Hattie gives Miss Fontez my name and information while I sit on that way-too-pink sofa, trying to give her a stinkeye. If looks could kill, Miss Fontez would be on her deathbed by now.

When Miss Fontez finishes jotting down my information on a piece of parchment, she files it under the coffee table in a book with a hollowed-out middle. Then she takes out another piece of paper and writes my name in curly script. She pins it to me.

“There, Anika-Belle,” She says. She leads me and Miss Hattie down a long, twisting corridor until finally she seems to decide on a place for us to stop.

She leads us in a similar-looking parlor. A girl who looks my age is sitting on a sofa.

“This is Dianna,” Miss Fontez introduces the girl.

The girl stands up. “Hello,” she says, the same fake smile plastered on her lips.

I sigh and roll my eyes.

Mrs. Hattie and Miss Fontez sit down to discuss grown-up matters and chat about boring stuff while Dianna ‘shows me around’.

She leads me down the hall until we get to a huge circular room with doors all over the walls.

“This is the four years old and under room,” She says, beckoning to then first door.

I hear lots of commotion and scrambling to places a she opens the door. I peek inside. The room is lined with bunk beds. There are dressers where the orphans presumably put their stuff. Little girls are standing ramrod straight next to their bunks. When Dianna closes the door, the commotion starts back up again and I can hear little girls playing and giggling.

The same thing happens with the 5-7 year olds and the 8-10 year olds, but getting quite as the girls get older.

By the time we reach the 11 and ups, the now-familiar shuffling sound is silent.

When we enter, the room is bigger than the rooms before. There is a small desk shoved in the corner. Instead of girls standing in front of their bunks and waving an animated, “Hello!” the girls are all crowded around the desk with a single candle lighting the room. They seem to be working on something.

Once Dianne and I had made our way through the door, Dianna’s posture relaxes and her smile was gone. She has a stern expression on her face. “Ari, Kate, Elisabeth, Marigold, Sasha, and Tiffany,” she pointed to each of the girls that were crowded around the little desk.

“Your bunk’s right there. You got that drawer and the little piece of wall above your bunk customize and store your stuff. Don’t disturb us.”

And then Dianna went to work on whatever those girls are working on.

I climb up to my bunk, not bothering to unpack or undress. The events of the day flash before my eyes.The fire. Mom and dad dead. Mrs. Hattie walking me here. The huge fake smile on Miss Fontez’s face. Now.

Now was now. It would never be anything else.

Then I fall in to a dreamless sleep.

Are you excited for chapter 2?

img_0817-9

 

 

I Wrote A Novel?! | #Snippets!

So….

Camp NaNoWriMo YWP 2017.

Which I……

Finished?:o

I actually finished something!

giphy

 

Credit

THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL IS COPYRIGHT 2017 EMERALDPHEONIX. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

IMG_1136

Title: On the Wrong Side of the Bed

Total Word Count: 16147

Blurb:

Emryn Mathews is just a regular girl, as far as she knows. But when she receives an anonymous birthday present, everything changes. Emryn is sucked in to a crazy fantasy  world where unicorns are considered ‘normal,’ and magic is used in just about everything.

In order to get home, Emryn and her new friends must embark on a dangerous quest to find the Silver Stone and go back home. But someone is sabatogig their mission. Can they get to the top before it’s to late?

And I know that the very bad blurb is leaving you hanging in suspense, not so I’ll give you…

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

.

.

 

.

.

.

.

 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

SNIPPETS!

tenor

Credit

THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL IS COPYRIGHT 2017 EMERALDPHEONIX. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Chapter 7: The Huntress

Emryn awoke in some sort of tent. Her arm was throbbing with pain. She had a horrible headache and was slightly nauseous.

She tried to sit up in the cot she had been laying on, but she immediately felt dizzy and feverish.

“Lay down,” a voice said.

It was a girl’s voice. It was warm and welcoming. The kind of voice that made you think of warm milk and a butter-covered pastry. Emryn immediately obeyed.

“Who are you? Where am I?” it took all her strength to form those words. The sound they had made sounded like it had come from a stranger. It was weak and scratchy and spoke in a  whisper.

“I don’t reveal my identity to strangers. For now you will know me as Kristina Kishalansky. I’m afraid I can’t tell you the exact location, but I can tell you you are at the R.S. base camp.”

“R.S.? What does that stand for?” She asked Kristina Kishalansky.

“Right Side,” She explained. “My father is of high authority in the R.S. military. ( you which level he is though. Security reasons.”) he got me a job here as a protector of the border of base. It’s kind of lousy. I only get fight Bierahs and rogue pixies.”

“That doesn’t seem lousy,” she told Kristina Kishalansky. “It seems frightening.”

‘Well, maybe for peasant like you,” she said. “but I’ve had this job my whole life. Nothing interesting ever happens when you’re border patrol for the world’s most pathetic base camp. I want to be a Right Side Soldier! I want to fight for my Side!”

“Why won’t tey let you in? Are you not good enough?”

Kristina looked offended. She quickly loaded her bow, took a millisecond to aim, and landed her target perfectly.

“Okay, not that. Why then?”

“Because I’m a girl,” she said angrily, firing at her target. She channeled her anger in to the force of the pull. The arrow split the previous one Robin-Hood-style.

“That stinks,” Emryn said, growing weaker with every word. Just one more question would be all she could muster.

After some careful consideration, Emryn decided to ask: “How did I get here?”

“As I told you, I am a part of the border patrol team for this R.S. base. Creatures like Beirahs, (scaly monsters with venomous fangs) have decided to work for the Left side. When they sense a Right Sider, they’ll attack.

“You were walking extremely close to base, where the Beirahs and most of the Left Side creatures mainly dwell. A Bierah attacked you. Thankfully, it was just a calf, so you’re just sick. A fully-grown one could’ve been fatal.

“Since you weren’t dead and where obviously a Right Sider, I took you here.”

It was a lot to take in.

“I’ll tend to your wounds, help you feel better, let you stay here and defend you on one condition: you help me get in to the Right Side army.”

Emryn had absolutely no idea how to get Kristina in to the army. But shelter and protection sounded really good to Emryn right now.

She nodded her head, and then passed out again.

Aaaand…. Snippet No. 2!!!

(In a previous chapter, Kristina revealed her identity as Amor.)

While the battle between the Right and Left Side Soldiers raged on back at base camp, Emryn and Amor had fled, Emryn tenderly carrying the unicorn and stroking it’s mane the whole time. The reason she had rescued it? Emryn didn’t know; the way the unicorn had just seemed so. . .so familiar had given Emryn a strange need to save it.

Then hit her.

The unicorn was the same one from the poster at her birthday party.

When Amor and Emryn had gotten to the point where they needn’t worry about the Left Side Soldiers catching up to them, they had slowed to a walk and Amor had told her the reason that the Left Side Soldiers had shot it was because it was one of the most magical and powerful Right Side creatures. . . an animal that powerful could definitely appear in the poster at her birthday party. But what did the wink mean?

Maybe she could ask it when it woke up.

“Kri–Amor?”

“Yeah?”

“Do unicorns talk?”

“Um, of course they do.” She looked at Emryn like she had just asked her if birds flew. “Why?”

“Well, I know this sounds crazy, but,” Emryn spilled the whole story. About the party. About the winking About the mirror. About Jeff. About the quest. About the dream.

“Wow,” Amor said, unsure what to say. “Sounds like quite a story.”

“Can you help me? I know that wasn’t part pf our deal, but–”

“Are you kidding? Of course I will! We’re friends now, right?”

Emryn was a bit shocked that Amor had called her her friend. She hesitated for a split second before she replied, “Right.”

They linked hands and walked in silence for a few minutes before Emryn finally decided to ask, “Why did you use an alias? I don’t think it was security reasons.”

“Well,” Amor hesitated, then took a deep breath and said, “Remember how I told you  that my father was of high authority in the R.S.? Well, he’s not.”

“What is he, then?”

“Dead.”

“i’m sorry,” Emryn said.

“Don’t be sorry,” Amor said, though Emryn saw her wipe away a tear.

“What happened to him?” Emryn asked, ho[ping she wasn’t making things worse.

“Murdered. By the Dark Lord himself. My mom died of childbirth. I am an orphan. The base took me in because they felt sorry for em, not because my father got me in. Border patrol is the job they give to pathetic little babies with nowhere to go, nothing else to lose. They let girls in the R.S. military, just not pathetic little babies. Like me.”

“I can’t believe. .  . I just assumed. .  .” Emryn stuttered before she added, “And you’re not a pathetic little baby. You’re a spectacular warrior! I saw the way you fought those Left Siders. I can’t even work this thing,” Emryn pointed to her bow ad arrows. which she was holding upside down.

“But you can work a Tracker. You’re magic is much better then mine, even though you just found out you had powers.”

“Amor, I haven’t even seen you use your magic. And I’m sure it is [insert term fro much better] than mine.”

“But I can’t knock someone out like you did.”

“Less of the I can’ts. More of the I cans.”

“When did you get so sappy?” Amor joked, though Emryn could tell that the pick-me-up had helped. “C’mon, we have a mountain to reach the top of!”

And one more cuz I spoil you marshmallows. 🙂

“It’s getting dark,” Amor said. “we need a place to stay.”

“Oh look, a hotel, right in the middle of the wilderness,” She said sarcastically. “What a coincidence.”

Amor glared at her. “That wasn’t funny. It didn’t even make any sense.”

“Well, we need somewhere to spend the night. And somewhere to tend to this unicorn.  It’s stirring a little bit. Plus, my arms are getting tired.”

“Wait, I have an idea,” Amor said. “The ouse where. . .where my father and I used to live is in a few miles. We could stay there. Plus, I think there might be some supplies in there, for you’re unicorn.”

“Thanks Amor. You’re the best.”

“I know,” Amor joked.

Are you excited to learn more about the novel? If you saw it in a store, would you read it? Do you think I  should self-publish it, after YOU Beta-read?

img_0817-1

Taco Bout it Tuesday (Wendsday?) #2: Why Historical Fictions are so Stinkin’ Time Consuming

So sorry., I completely forgot about Taco Bout It Tuesday.. Fourth of July is extremely time consuming. 😊 Today is…

Why Historical Fictions are so Time Consuming!

The reason it is so time spconsuming is all that reasearch! This taco bout it Tuesday is all about reasearch, and how to do it!

First, I will be sharing some of my favorite research recourses.

                                                                                         

  NOTE: While searching online, inappropriate words or images may come up. Turn the ‘Safe Search’ to strict and have an adult with you at all times while browsing the internet.                     

                                                                                        🌮 

GOOGLE

https://google.com

Honestly, whenever I need to know what a Whirlgig is or when I need to know popular names for German girls in the 1900s, I turn to google. It’s you just type in a few keywords, and it will give you many different tabs to browse those keywords: all, images, videos, shopping, personal, flights, and so much more. There are so many articles out there that google can connect to you. If you are writing a historical fiction, you can just type in your era and have millions of search results relating to it.

                                                                                   🌮 

THE LIBRARY

           

Guys, the library is the best place to go. I mean it’s got books on how to write a book. #awesome just ask a librarian and they’ll willingly show you history books, biographies, anything you can  imagine.

                                                                                                           🌮 

BING

https://www.bing.com

I like bing because it’s personal, and customizable. Sometimes it’ll even play music! Here I typed in ‘1700s’ into bing.


It shows you timelines, images, and definitions, perfect for using in your historical Fictions. 
                                                                                                             🌮

WHAT IS A HISTORICAL FICTION?


^

When writing a Historical Fiction, pick a time period first and do some reasearch with one of the resources listed above (by typing in the era). Then you can build your characters and plot on the events that happened in that time period.

                                                                                                     🌮

TACO SONG OF THE DAY

It’s raining tacos minecraft animation
                                                                                                       🌮

TACO PLACE OF THE DAY

Taco Cabana!

                                                                                                          🌮

TACO TAG!

Today’s taco tag goes to….

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Rebcake! She posted about it here. Congratulations, Rebcake! If you would like bonus entries, share about it on social media, tell your friends about it, and let me know that you did in the comments! Now you can answer these questions on your blog:

  1. What is your favorite part of taco Tuesday?
  2. What would you like to see in Taco Tuesday?
  3. What is your favorite taco place?
  4. If you won the giveaway, which taco place would you want your $30 gift card to go to?
  5.  Have you enjoyed taco Tuesday?

Thanks for reading!

Taco Bout It Tuesday #1!!

Eeek! It’s here! Welcome everyone, to The First Edition of Taco Tuesday: First Person vs. Thirds  Person!

First, Let’s Start With the Supercalifragilisticexpislidociously Awesome Third Person!

Well, maybe we should start with FIRST person. I mean, it says first, right?

First Person: Right you are, Emmie, I said.

Me: Waiiiiittt. What about secound person?

Third Person: Is that even a real thing?, she thought. 

First Person: think there is another one where the story is addressed to YOU.

Third Person: Well, vs only can have two people, she said.

Me: Ummm okey dokey. So who’s going First?

First Person: MeMeMeI’m first person, after all.

Me: okay then. Let’s get started! 

First Person: We already started. 

Me: Whatevah. 

                                                                         🌮

First Person 

The Pros:

  • Ultimately used in Diary-Formatted novels. 
  • Helps add humor and interest to tHe story.
  • Helps the reader see the story through ‘I’s’ eyes. 
  • mostly paired with the present Tense.

The Cons:

  • It’s not as awesome as third.
  •  Everything you talk about in the story must be from the outlook of the character. (E.g. If you are telling the story through a grumpy character, then your whole narritation will be uber negative.)
  • Everything must be noticed by the character. (E.g. If you say ‘When I wasn’t looking,…’ it will make zero sense. Questions will zip through the reader’s mind. How does he/she know what is happening when he/she is not looking? Does he/she have eyes on the back of his/her head?)
  • We like to stay positive here at The Realm of Writing, so it’s time to ✋ with the cons. 

                                                                          🌮

The Amazing Third Person

The Pros:

  • It is genuinely easier to write prologues and epilogues with.
  • Adds a tone of mysteriousness and fantasy.
  • Commonly paired with the past Tense.
  • Adds sort of a narrator character. 
  • Wideley used in poems.
  • The oldest persective. 
  • The Bible is in this perspective.

The Cons:

  • Sort of serious and not very humorous. Well duh it’s not I said it was serious
  • Cannot be used in the diary format. 
  • Man it’s hard finding bad things about third

                                                                           🌮

The Ultimatley Ultimate Showdown

First Person:

I grasp for the next rock. My hands are sore and scraped. My lungs are going to burst. I fumble around blindly for a tree root that might happen to be growing out of the cliff at arms reach. I see a thick branch poking out of the side of the cliff. Perfect, I think as I reach out to grab the root.

 My am slips and suddenly I am plummeting down the side of a 200 ft cliff to my doom.

Third Person

She grasps for the next rock. Her hands are sore and scraped. Her lungs feel like they are going to burst. She fumbles around blindly for a tree root that might happen to be growing out of the cliff at arms reach. She sees a thick branch poking out of the side of the cliff. Perfect, she thinks as she reaches out to grab the root. 

Her arm slips and suddenly Lavender is plummeting down the side of a 200 ft cliff to her doom.

Who won? Leave a comment below with your vote! Because I’m to lazy to make a playbuzz

                                                                     🌮

Taco Song of The Week

It’s raining tacos 10H version 

                                                                       🌮 

Taco Tag

 Since today is the first Taco Tuesday, the taco tag won’t go to anybody.. yet.in order to get tagged, you must post about this series and leave a link to this blog. Comment with the To your link to your taco post to win! When you win, you get to answer the Taco tag questions… which will be posted next Tuesday mwahaha 

                                                                        🌮 

Today’s Taco Place

Torchy’s Tacos!
Did you like taco Tuesday?



I May or May Not Be Discontinuing 101 Writing Prompts and Starting a Million Other Things #Longestitleever

Like my featured image? XD
It’s true. The title is not a joke. 

I am actually going to demolish destroy murder discontinue 101 Writing Prompts. 

I’m not doing it randomly, I’ll give you 10 reasons:

  1. They were really bad
  2. Like really bad
  3. And not very professional 
  4. And messy
  5. And weird
  6. They were very boring and time consuming
  7. Because
  8. Because 
  9. Because 
  10. Because 

“We’re doomed forever! Phoenix, what on earth will we do without your horribly corny writing prompts?” You might say.

Well, we’re moving on.

But we’re not JUST moving on. We’re moving on to something bigger.

Correction: We’re moving on to somethings that are bigger.

SOMETHING BIGGER NO. 1

Official Image Coming Soon. (That sounds like a movie trailer XD)

Taco ‘Bout It Tuesday!

~WHAT IT IS~

A crazy, writing themed, very taco-ish discussion series in which I get to rant about how much I despise certain writing styles and tell you about the awesomeness of Past Tense. And I get to talk about my fav Taco Places!!! 🌮 I can’t even.

Each Taco ‘Bout It Tuesday post will have its own topic.

           #1: Past Tense vs. Present Tense

           #2: First Person vs. Third Person 

           #3: The Difference Between Fantasy and Sci-Fi

           #4. Why Historical Fictions Are So Stinkin’ Time Consuming 

           #5. Editing and How Horrible it is 

      Please keep in mind that these are draft titles and may change when actually posted.

~WHY YOU SHOULD BE EXCITED FOR IT~

Umm, hello? This thing involves tacos so yes you should be excited.

You’ll get awesome writing tips AND you get knowledge on the best taco places #justforfun

~WHEN IT WILL HAPPEN~ 

Not tomorrow Tuesday, But next week Tuesday. 
       

SOMETHING BIGGER NO. 2


My FIRST STORY SERIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m very excited! (hence the exclamation points)

~WHAT IT IS~ 

A supercool novelette, of which I will post chapters. There is no official posting schedule. 

~WHY I YOU SHOULD BE EXCITED ABOUT IT~ 

ITS MY FIRST STORY SERIES SO YEAH. 

~WHEN IT WILL HAPPEN~

Sometime in July. 

Well that’s that! Do you miss 101 Writing Prompts? Are you excited for the other things? Leave a comment below!