Writers support discussion

Alright, where shall we post it? Put it in as a Goodreads story and post the link, or post the actual story?

I'd say link it from something, your choice whether you post it to the Goodread's story section, or a different writing site. That way we don't crowd up the page. Sound good, loudfire?

Otherwise, we can always put it in spoilers...

(view spoiler)[Like this. (hide spoiler)]

My story's on the way!

Loudfire wrote: "I don't care either way. I had planned for the submissions to be in this topic, but that's a good idea too. Also the spoiler one is a good idea.
I'm not worried about space being taken up, my plan ..."

Yeah, you can read anyone's writing.

Sure, then let's have all the submissions posted in full form on this topic!

So I put the story here, not the link?

Story will be posted tomorrow!

My story! ^_^

(view spoiler)[
The Introduction of Madame Pince and Sandra Bennet

It was a crisp, clear morning in Horcrux: the sun was shining; the birds were singing; and the children were being shoved back into their seats to begin the rest of their day at Horcrux middle school.

In the front of the room stood Madame Pince, her tongue clucking against the roof of her mouth as she stared down at the juvenile delinquents she was in charge of. A yardstick hung threateningly in her left hand, her glasses pushed up tightly against her eyes, and her lips were puckered as though the children were lemons she was forced to suck on.

Her grey hair was pinned back into a tightly woven bun, nary a thread allowed out of place. Her dress was bland and gray like her teaching, but there was a splashs of color in one place. Blood red lipstick stuck to her teeth and lips probably from all the blood and life she sucked from her students during math class.

Today she was giving the class a lecture on Pythagoras, the great mathematician.

"...and that is why Pythagoras always believed in safety in numbers," she smiled at her little pun. None of the children laughed. Madame Pince scowled, "I hope you remembered all of that because I'm not writing it on the board AND I expect a three page paper, single spaced on my desk tomorrow morning at 8 A.M. sharp detailing the life and times of Mr. Pythagoras..."

The children groaned, although by now they were used to such random assignments being thrown at them throughout the year...

Well, I shouldn't say all the children were used to it. They had a new child at Horcrux middle school; it was little Sandra Bennet of 423 E. Harlem Drive, the slums of the town.

"But Madame Pince, that's nowhere near enough time to write a paper," Sandra Bennet compained. "We should have at least a week to finish an essay that big..."

Madame Pince turned around from the chalkboard slowly, a white stick snapping in her fingertips. Her face was pinched more than usual as she looked at Ms. Bennet.

"Need I remind you who is in charge here?" she asked.

Sandra started to answer, but a yardstick hitting a desk stopped her in her tracks.

"That was rhetorical, Ms. Bennet. You would do well to remember that in this classroom, all your rights are given up. The Constitution does not count; the laws are made by me. In other words, in this classroom, I am judge, jury, and executioner."

Sandra sat back farther in her chair.

"But that isn't fair," she retorted. "Out there everyone has to follow the laws and the Constitution. What makes this classroom so different?"

"Because I am in charge," Madame Pince hissed. "And since I'm in charge, I make the rules. You don't tell the worker bees to ignore the queen, do you?"

A boy in the front row raised his hand, "I thought we were talking about math..."

"Silence you!" Madame Pince slammed a yardstick on his desk. "And you, Ms. Bennet... you have detention for a week. I hope you enjoy clapping erasers..."

Sandra slouched low in her seat, ashamed at her loss against Madame Pince, but she wouldn't go down without a fight. She still had a few ideas up her sleeves and she'd be sure to let Madame Pince know that she wasn't going to stay quiet throughout the rest of the year...
(hide spoiler)]

Mine's not very good. I find it cliche, trite, and overused... but my mind wasn't working too terribly well so here it is! :D

Here is mine:

(view spoiler)[The Betrayal of Evolutionary Beings

Blazing blue eyes, a mess of black hair, and hands clenched white. That is how I saw Faust right now. He gritted his teeth, trying to think of what to say, I could see it in his eyes. His lips pursed in a movement of anger, struggling to throw out the words he so desperately needed. But he couldn’t. Not without me replying back in my usual biting tone, and the last thing both of us wanted was a fight. So we stared down each other, my brilliantly green eyes staring back in equal nerve, the anger unhidden in my plain features. In that moment, the one millisecond span of measly time, I wanted to hurt him. Rip ebony hair from his head, rake fingers down his face as he screamed no mercy in my soul.

“It is your fault Faust. All yours.” I say, trying to keep my head, as a thousand obscenities bounced about in my mind, each one getting nastier. “Shut up Lena.” Faust glares angrily at me. “You did this to me!” I exploded, my hand flying to the thick scar running down my cheek, another similar one placed on the pale skin of my upper arm. “You have lied all these years Faust, telling me that I had slipped and fell upon the rocks at the lake. And I find out the truth, from the forest! The friggin’ trees!” I throw up my arms to display the unjust situation. I should probably stop, but I am on a roll now, words bursting from my mouth, ranting on.

“Lena, stop. Calm down.” He says in a voice that is obviously struggling to calm down as well. “I will not calm down! Why didn’t you tell me? That I was a witch?!” My hands itched to hit something. Anything. Faust looked up with the expression that I knew so well. “Magyk being. You are called Magyk beings.” He corrected, the slightest smile creeping to his face. I did what I do best. Slapped him hard, across the face, leaving an angry mark across his slightly olive toned face. He wobbled slightly, and looked at me hard, as if trying to decipher my actions. “What the hell was that for?” He asked quietly, probably figuring I had lost my mind. To hurt my protector held the severest of consequences. Or so I was told.
“Faust.” I began, keeping my voice steady. “Please tell me all I need to know, and tell me now. I only just found out and would very much like to know the entire story.” I said, disappointment flickering across his face as I spoke. He slumped down onto the rough surface of stone below us, and folded his hands forward.

“Lena. Like I had said before, you are a Magyk being. You are imbedded with a layer of fine stone called Zelzar to keep magical senses down before you turn 16.” That explained the odd scars in my face and arm. The trees had informed me I had been injected with a special powder, and I was special, but did not elaborate. “You have the ability to control the elements. Fire, earth-“ I cut him off. “I know what the elements are.” I groaned impatiently. “Cut to the chase.”

“You are the core of evolution. The Magyk beings each have a special power to control evolution, and are born every 1, 467 years.” Enough with the stupid odd numbers already. “And…” He trailed off, noticing the expression on my face. “And I am leaving.” I stood abruptly, and stormed off, my thick skirts trailing in the light dust on stone. All of it was too much. The confrontation with Faust, the confession. Why didn’t he tell me this before? We had known each other for years! I burst into silent sobs, my tears dripping onto the ground with the softest of touches, trickling down my pale, unpowdered face. One thing I was sure of. My life would never be the same. (hide spoiler)]

Mine:
(view spoiler)[
Change of Heart
Come, Xandra.
Meet me in your apple grove, midnight, tonight.
You need to do something.
I want to tell you first.

Signing the note was an ornate P. Xandra hissed as she read it; when she'd finished she crumpled the note with one hand and threw it in the bin next to her bed. She looked at the time on her clock, nearly 7. The sun had gone down a while ago. She always loved watching sunsets, but of course she had to have missed this one.

She opened the blinds, looking out at her roof and the family's apple grove. According to them, she was dead. Her parents, the pitiful ones they were, had blocked off her room to anyone and everyone. Perfect place to rest while the sun was up.

Xandra sighed, climbing out her window and onto the roof, barely louder than the breezes sweeping through the young night. Chances were Pann would be way early to the grove, he was always early when they'd known each other before... Well, never mind that.

She'd hardly passed ten trees before she heard his voice. “Xandra. Early, I see. Didn't trust that I'd be on time?”

The tall almost-man stepped out of the shadows behind an apple tree, his face still hidden but his voice easy for Xandra to recognize. “No. I just wanted to get whatever the hell you wanted to tell me told so I can go do what I actually want to do.” Xandra replied, pulling herself up into one of the low branches while Pann laughed softly. “Nice attitude, Xandra. We used to be such good friends, Xan, why the change of heart?”

“Note the past tense in that sentence, Pann. Used to be good friends.”

“So we're not anymore? Then why exactly did you come down here, in the middle of the night, to meet someone like me?”

“Because-”

“Because you know there might be something in it for you.” Pann interrupted her calmly, remaining partially hidden. “Actually, because I know you can't and won't hurt me.” Xandra finished her own sentence. Pann chuckled softly, pulling something that glinted silver out of his pocket. A dagger. “Nice try, idiot. I could break that knife in two.” She laughed, but it was a wary laugh. The Pann she knew, used to know, wouldn't let her see the real weapon until it was coming at her.

“I know you could, Xan.” He said, tossing it to the tree. Had anyone else done that, the dagger would've bounced off. Instead, it stuck, a good inch into the bark. Xandra's eyes had watched it go, which she now realized was a bad idea. She looked back up quickly, her dark hair brushing past her neck, but Pann was still simply standing there.

“Enough of this crap with daggers, Pann, why do you want to talk to me?”

“Cutting to the chase, are we? Well, how very like you. You know, Xan, you haven't changed much at all. Well, except for the obvious...”

“I'm waiting.”

Pann sighed, moving closer. Xandra immediately entered defense mode, stepping back to brace herself. This made Pann laugh, but he didn't say anything. For once. “You know what you are, correct?”

“Yeah, what you made me.”

“You've heard the stories, Xandra, you're a smart girl.”

“I'm not hurting anyone, Pann.”

Pann laughed at Xandra. He'd begun to circle her and the tree, hands clasped behind his leather-trench-coat-clad back. “That sort of thinking will kill you, Xandra. Come with me. I can show you what life—well, really, what death—is like.”

“Screw off, Pann. I'm not joining you in anything. Especially not that.” Xandra said, turning herself so that she faced him. “Really, Xan? You'd choose to die rather than kill, say, a criminal?”

“No. I'd rather kill an innocent person than kill a criminal who has a death sentence anyway with you.”
Xandra's words were not just spiked, but thoroughly coated in venomous hate. Pann sighed, looking at her. Now she could see one half of his face, pale and framed with blond hair, a gleaming blue eye looking right at her.

“I'm sorry you think that. You used to be so much more... compliant, Xan.”

“Again, past tense. Forget it. Forget me. I'm not working with you, and you have no reason to come back here again. Screw off.”

Xandra turned, heading for the gate, to leave, to drink. “Xan! Xandra!” Pann followed her, running to catch up, but was pushed away with a shove.

When she reached the gate, all she had to do was lift the latch and leave. But she couldn't. Not without looking back, just once.

Turning her back on him, rejecting his offer, was a mistake.

Turning around was worse.

Pann stepped forward, the thing in his hands she could see for only a moment as something sharp.

Sharp and wooden.

Pain erupted from her chest, where the stake had stuck, spreading like fire up to her head. She couldn't think, she could hardly even see.



Pann caught Xandra as she fell. No tears this time. No sobbing apologies about how he had to. He hadn't. He wanted to kill her. Almost.

The dead girl died again, the last words she heard were ones he'd never said before. Ones she remembered learning in school, ones she'd once hoped he'd say to her.

“Je t'aime.”

I love you.

And then he stood. Leaving her doubly lifeless body there, by the gate. Her father would come out in the morning, at sunset. See his dear darling daughter there, her dark hair spread across her pale face, framing her pale, blue-green eyes. The sight would hurt the old man more than Pann could've previously done.

Pann smiled slightly, leaving the gate open as he walked, further and further into the night. (hide spoiler)]

Ok, well, I haven't written an actual story in a while but here is one I wrote like, last year!

(view spoiler)[The cat first started appearing outside my window last Tuesday. Those deep red eyes, peering into your soul, trying to figure me out. Those eyes. I can't get out of my mind. No cat has red eyes. No animal has red eyes. It's just strange. Its ear twitching at every slight sound. Its coal gray fur, reflecting the moonlight. The long and strong tail moving in a mesmerizing motion, back and forth, back and forth. Its paws, clinging softly to the tree branch it's perched on, not making a sound. The branch of our willow tree ends only 3 feet from my window. It's entire body is flawless, perfect even. I can feel its energy coming off of it like steam off a hot potato.
Strange simile right? But I always think like that. I always have and always will. My mom says I have ADHD. Maybe thats why I have no friends. In preschool, I would play in the sand box alone. The kids would call me a freak, or even a geek. Even though I never could color inside the lines. They called me this because even when I would just pick up a block, a puzzle piece, or even a cracker, it would crumple in my grip, without me even trying to squeeze it. It was the strangest thing. In 4th grade, I was the only one at my lunch table. apparently, I stunk. Also, the place were I sat every day on the bench started to sink in, an one day broke for no reason. Even now, in 8th grade, I have to work alone on partner projects because I always break the projects. So not true. Well, maybe sort of true. So you could say I'm a loner, but I'm really not. Honest!
This cat is acting just like everyone else. Staring at me like I really am some kind of freak. At least its not telling me I stink. But it is really starting to freak me out. It comes every night at exactly 10:00 and leaves at 6:00. You could say its watching over me in a way. But that doesn't seem like the case. Its almost like its staking me, waiting for the right time to pounce. Now, its Sunday, and its been coming for 5 nights. Every nights it comes closer, and closer to the window. If it keeps up this rate, It should be sitting next to my bed on Friday.
Last night I stayed up until dawn, just staring at all its features. Mentally analyzing and memorizing every detail of its silken, delicate body. I'm doing the same right now. My pillow is propped up against the bed frame so I can get a better view of it, because my window is straight across from where I lay. I swear I haven't blinked in at least in hour. My eyes are just to transfixed onto the red ones. It's like an epic game of "staring contest." You know, who can blink first? Lets just say that I would have won an award by now if that was the game we were playing. I finally stand up and walk slowly to the window frame, careful not to brake gaze with his. I keep walking toward the two red floating bulbs in the night.
The thing that brings me back to reality is when my forehead and toes simultaneously hit the window and wall. "Ow!" I exclaim as I rub my temple, momentarily looking away from the cat. As soon as look away I knew I shouldn't have. I don't know what could happen if I do shift my eyes, but I have this gut feeling that I am going to regret it. Quickly, I look back to the place where the cat was. Empty space fills that area.
"Great. Its gone." I whisper to my self, careful not to wake the whole house. Scanning the entire yard at least 3 time confirms that it indeed disappeared. I kick the wall in frustration and storm back to my bed, back to those warm covers. Right before I put my pillow flat on the bed I glance back at the branch it once sat on, to see it only feet from my window again. This is as close as it has ever been. I blink, which I haven't done in a long time, to make sure I'm not seeing things. I'm not. So, all I do is drop my pillow and look.
The floor board creaks under my weight as my mind pulls my feet back over to the window. I am scared, yet intrigued and curious to see exactly what this cat it. Every feature of this cat is now right in front of me to examine. I can now see its claws, and they each are at least an inch long, and razor sharp. The whiskers are as thin as needles, thankfully not sharp.
I wonder were it had gone just moments before, and how it appeared so quickly I reach to the window latch careful not to look away and loose the cat again. I can't let that happen. This time though, it's the cat whose glances away, watching as my hand slowly and quietly slides the window upward. A small, hissing sound starts in the back of it's throat, growing louder and louder the farther the window moves up. " I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to pet you." I assure it. A yowl escapes its lips letting me know, it's not assured.
I start to wonder if this isn't such a good idea. I mean, it is just a cat. Nothing special. But the way it looks at me, makes me wonder if its more then just a cat. Maybe it's a highly trained robot cat sent by the FBI to watch over me and make sure that I'm not part of some group planning to murder the president. Now, don't judge me. I can't help the way I think.
After the window is pushed up as high as it can go, I start to unhinge the window screen . It backs up a few steps and leaves its paw hanging in the air in case it thinks it needs to back up any farther. I, not wanting to make the creature scared, run away, or even attack me, stop my hand movements. The hiss continues in its throat.
This continues for at least 5 minutes; me undoing a latch, the cat jumps a little. I finally finish "de-latching" the screen and the only thing that stands between me and those eyes is a flick of the wrist. I have to use enough force to make the screen fall out completely, and I know that there is going to be no "quietly" doing this. I have to do it fast and quickly. At this point the cat's hair is standing up so high, it could bypass the Eiffel Tower. I don't know what the cat reaction is going to be, but its not going to be calm.
I tap the window with one finger to judge how hard I would have to push to make it come out. For most people, you would need to push fairly hard with both hands to make the screen even budge. I should have known before, based on my past history, what would happen.
As my finger makes contact with the window, the screen falls toward the bushes on the first floor. The cat goes absolutely crazy. It jumps around 3 feet in the air. As it is in the air, it grows in size. making it look more like a mountain lion than a regular house cat. It lands on the window seal and makes a huge, deep, and quite scary "Meow."
I stumble back to avoid getting a claw in face, and scream for help. How in the world can a cat do this? Turn into different species of cat? Its a mythical thing! What the heck! I fall backwards, tripping over my pillow that was left on the ground. The cat leaps onto the floor and prowls towards where a lay, nocking over many items in my room including my books shelf, desk and nightstand. I try yell again, but the words get stuck in my throat when the large cat rests its paw on my arm.
I would expect it to be ripping me to shreds by now. But it just looks at me. Its blood red eyes staring straight into mine. In those eyes I see something I have never seen in a cat before. A grin.
It looks down at its own paw. One of its claws on the paw that's "resting" on my arm scratches into my skin, making a strange symbol on my arm. No blood comes from the place where the scratch is made, even though the cut is very deep. The only thing that comes from the scratch is a The size of the scar is around the size of a sandwich. It looks like a Chinese letter.
I don't understand what is happening. It doesn't technically scream with pain, but it defiantly makes me cringe. Like getting a shot from the doctors office. The cat gets off of me and stands back. The smirk in those red gleaming eyes take one last look at me, before it turns and looks back toward the window.
It suddenly starts to grow feathers. Huge feathers. The cat turns into an eagle, but it still looks like a cat. A thought hits my brain. I have heard of this creature before. A griffin. Thats it! It then makes a noise sounding like a lion eating a squawking pigeon.
It walks and or waddles, what ever you want to call it, over to the window seal. It leaps out the window, spreading its majestic wings, and taking off.
I stand up, with shaky legs, using my arm that wasn't permanently scared with a griffin claw, to help me to my feet. One of the wings, accidentally hit our tree in our front yard, Knocking the top half of the tree over, into the street. The top of the tree snags on the power line, taking it down as well. The sky lights up with electricity. I cover my eyes as sparks fly all over the road and grass.
I look to the sky, seeing whom I once thought was just an innocent lost cat, take off towards the west. Away from the rising sun. It's like the creature is running away from the light. Even though it cut me, it didn't seem evil. But not an angel either. Strange. I wonder why a creature as strong as it self would do such a thing.
As it flies away from my house hold, my heart skips a beat, thinking back on every event that happened that night.
I glance back down at out street. No cars can get down the street, and no cars can get out of the drive ways. No permeant damage seems to have been done to any houses; Only a few mailboxes and lawn gnomes were crushed and cars overturned. I better go and pretend I'm asleep before the cops, fire trucks, and the FBI show up. At least I now know that the cat wasn't a FBI robot after all.
As I lay on my bed, holding onto my scar, eyes closed, one last thing crosses my cloudy mind:

What will my mom say? (hide spoiler)]

Wait... Where do we vote at??