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Twig

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Twig Newbie

Twig

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Krystök - Chief God and God of the Earth and Stone. He is the Guardian of Krystokalites, whose powder is said to contain 1/2 of the energy required to bring someone back from the dead.

 

Enzax - God of Mischief and Luck. Charged with protecting the Keys of Thought, one of the items required to restore life to the dead.

and since it would make no sense to have a god go without an avatar:

 

Enzax's Avatar (AKA Materal Plane look):

Silvery hair covers most of his head and hangs down to his shoulders. A commoner's Tunic and leggings make up the rest of his look, he tends to wear a sly smile and will always speak in riddles and rhymes. Always the prankster he sometimes will lead adventurers astray with deciet and tales of treasure. Only one man ever caught him in a lie and that man now sits in Enzax's realm, a friend and advisor to the god.

 

Valentia- Goddess of Love and Beauty. She is the protector of the Amulet of Heart, one of the items required to restore life to the dead. It is said to contain pure love inside the heart of the amulet.

 

Valentia has long red hair and red eyes. She wears a red dress layered with hearts. Her skin is pale. She is the most beautiful goddess of all. Valentia is also one of the nicest goddess. She can control her pride. Valentia is in charge of all the love in the world. Whether you're a human or a rat, Valentia can control who you love, but she lets everyone have free will. Because of the vast amount of creatures, she made Heart Spirits that helps her control the love of everyone.

 

Altus- God of Secrets. Protector of the Secret Box, one of the items required to restore life to the dead.

 

 

I'll add description of Altus later.

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Azerty-of-KoL Newbie

Azerty-of-KoL

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Here's my idea for a god.

 

Aeran- The god who is said to be the sky. Weather patterns base off Aeran's emotions and feelings. Aeran can be extremely impulsive, and is said the have sudden mood changes, very much like the weather. Aeran guards the Sacred Rains of Life. It contains the rest of the energy to reanimate a body.

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Raylen Newbie

Raylen

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How many have you read?

[spoiler=100 Must Read Books

1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien

2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen [in Progress]

3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman

4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling [Done]

6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee

7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne

8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell

9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis

10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë

11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller

12. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë [Done]

13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks

14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier

15. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger

16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame

17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres

20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell

22. Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling [Done]

23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling [Done]

24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling [Done]

25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien

26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy

27. Middlemarch, George Eliot

28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving

29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck

30. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll

31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson

32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez

33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett

34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens

35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl [Done]

36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson

37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute

38. Persuasion, Jane Austen

39. Dune, Frank Herbert

40. Emma, Jane Austen

41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery

42. Watership Down, Richard Adams

43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald

44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas

45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh

46. Animal Farm, George Orwell

47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens [Done]

48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy

49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian

50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher

51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett

52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck

53. The Stand, Stephen King

54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy

55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth

56. The BFG, Roald Dahl [Done]

57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome

58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell

59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer [Done]

60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky

61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman

62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden

63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens

64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough

65. Mort, Terry Pratchett

66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton

67. The Magus, John Fowles

68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett

70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding [Done]

71. Perfume, Patrick Süskind

72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell

73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett

74. Matilda, Roald Dahl [Done]

75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding

76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt

77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins

78. Ulysses, James Joyce

79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens

80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson

81. The Twits, Roald Dahl

82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith

83. Holes, Louis Sachar

84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake

85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy

86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson

87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley

88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons

89. Magician, Raymond E Feist

90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac

91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo

92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel

93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett

94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho

95. Katherine, Anya Seton

96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer

97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez

98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson

99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot

100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie

 

 

 

I need to read more.

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Space Ranger Gold Newbie

Space Ranger Gold

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Is it too late to join? 'Cause if it's not I'd like too.

 

Username: Space Ranger Gold

Favorite Books: Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

[spoiler=Writing Example]

(Chapter 1)

The Gray Man

 

 

The night was dark; the moon was full. The faint song of crickets filled the air, and the streetlights kept the streets lit. The neighborhood of Woodvale Drive was a place of big houses, and wealthy citizens. The grass was green, and white fences divided the yards of the homes, except for one house. The Reiser house was the biggest home on Woodvale, perched atop a large hill. It homed an old couple. Carol and Erwin Reiser, who were once wealthy land owners.

In the faintest of the dark night came a knock upon the Reiser door. The old Erv crawled out of bed, and stumbled to the front door. As he stumbled to the large wooden door of the mansion, he looked the peephole, and nearly fell back from shock. Erv quickly flung open the door, and welcomed the man inside,

“It’s been a very long time, old friend.” Erv said. The man walked in holding a bundled up old cloth, snug in his arm. He lifted one of his large hands and scratched his rugged black beard, and looked at Erv,

“Get Carol; She must here this too.” The man looked away from Erv, and down to the cloth he held in his arm. He glanced back to Erv, who then left to go wake up his wife,

“Carol,” Erv whispered, “Carol, wake up!”

Carol slowly opened her old eyes and gazed up at Erv, then at the clock. It was 3:13 AM. She then gazed back at Erv,

“What could be so important this early in the morning?” Erv looked away from her, and replied,

“He’s here; something must of happened,” Carol’s eyes opened as wide as they could. She then grabbed her glasses from their nightstand, and got out of bed as quick as she could. She tried to walk out of the room, which was engulfed in almost total darkness, to find the door, but Erv had to lead her out.

They walked through the long corridors of their home, and came back to the entrance where the man still stood; the cloth still in his arm,

“Please,” Carol asked, “What has happened?” The man held out the cloth in his arm. Carol reached out to grab it,

“Be careful!” The man spoke. Carol then slowly grabbed the blanket-like cloth. It was heavier than she expected, and out of curiosity began to peel away the blanket.

“Oh my god!” Carol gasped, “It’s-It’s!”

“What!?” Erv responded,

“It’s baby Atticus, William and Isabel’s boy!” Carol held out the blanket that held the baby boy, and showed it to Erv, whose eyes widened.

“I’m sorry to say this,” the man said, “but both of them have passed on. I’m not sure how.”

Erv and Carol stood shocked, holding the sleeping baby in their arms. A tear rolled down Carol’s cheek, and she looked down at Atticus,

“We’ll adopt him.” Erv mumbled, “I don’t want my only grandson to grow up in an orphanage!”

“That why I came here,” the man said. He took a letter out of his trench coat pocket, and gave it to Erv, “Don’t open that note until Atticus starts to ask strange questions. I’ll see you on that day.” and with that, the man disappeared from the Reiser home.

 

* * * * *

 

Twelve years have passed since that dreadful night and Atticus has grown to be a strapping young man. It is his summer vacation before his first year of high school, and though most kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement, Atticus was not a very popular boy at his school, mainly because of his interests. Atticus was not amongst kids like his own. He is always in his notebook, writing the classical story of a “loner” searching for a legendary “item” that would save the world from a mythical evil, and make him a “hero”.

Atticus had semi-long, rustled up, light-brown hair. His face was nothing too special; with a blemish here and there. He looked like an average, everyday teenager. Atticus took a weekly writing class every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, because his grandparents said it would be good for him to socialize.

Like any other, and every other, teenager in the world, Atticus has very odd dreams, but recently Atticus’ dreams have become very different. In his dreams, Atticus keeps seeing a large castle of abstract proportions. There is no solid structure to it, and it looks as if it is bound to fall at the slightest breeze, but it never does. The castle glowed with orange and brown bricks, which where so neatly polished that they shimmered like glass. The windows of the castle were no absolute shape, and none of them were in the same area. The castle itself was isolated from the rest of the world by trees, and long mountain ranges. Towards the top of the palace, it seemed to get smaller, coming to a small point, spiraling upward, but four large towers spawned out from the top, another reason why the castle looked so abstract, and ready to collapse.

Another thing would always happen in the dream. A man would always exit the castle from the large, wooden, entrance door. The man had a short, scraggly, gray beard, and his actions were simple: Leave the castle, head to a rock or tree, put his hand on it and mumble something, but on one night it was different. The man, like always, came from the castle, but this time instead of walking to a rock, or tree, he walked to Atticus. The man came face-to-face with him, and Atticus could see all the features of him.

The man was tall, and had a lanky body figure. His eyes were a pale yellow, and his skin had a light tan. His white hair fell to his shoulders, and his expression was bland. The man was wearing a long green cloak that fell down to his feet.

The man stood in front of Atticus for a short while, not doing anything. Atticus wanted to move away from the man, but he was totally immobile, as if he was tied up. Before Atticus could force himself awake, the man mumbled,

“You are a warlock,” and before Atticus could respond, he awoke, lying mangled in his bed.

He sat in his bed, the darkness surrounding the room. He remained sitting their wondering about his dream, “What was that?” Atticus said to himself. He laid back down, and stared into the darkness that covered his ceiling, “Warlock?” He thought to himself what the dream could have symbolized, but before he knew it, he fell back to sleep.

His dream, this time, took a completely different turn. The palace was gone, the trees were gone, and everything else was gone. All that existed this time was a black void of nothing. Atticus stood, as though on solid ground, but beneath his feet was nothing but black. He looked around for anything, but to no avail.

After a long while, Atticus gave up his search, and tried to sit down, but froze in place after hearing an ominous noise. A squeak; the kind of squeak you get when you ride your bike after forgetting to oil the chain. Atticus spun around to see what caused the squeak, and saw something both horrifying and confusing at the same time. A man riding a rusty, old, bicentennial bicycle, and was wearing a black trench coat that blended with the darkness. The man wore a large, wide smile, which sent fear through Atticus’s body, and his eyes had no pupils. His hair was a dark gray, slightly lighter than the darkness that surrounded him, but the strangest part of the man was his skin. It was a dark, rough, gray that was a tad darker than his hair, but lighter than his coat.

The man was slowly riding his bike towards Atticus. There was no noise except for the bike’s squeak, and a little chuckle coming from the man. Atticus normally wouldn’t be afraid of something like this, but something about this man terrified him to paralyzed state. The man came and parked in front of Atticus. He stuck out his scraggly, boney hand and grabbed Atticus’ throat. The man let out a high-pitched wail, and began to laugh, which forced Atticus awake.

Atticus grabbed his throat, and felt a cold chill where the gray man had grabbed him. He then took his hand off his throat, and gazed at his alarm clock. It was 7:17 AM, the earliest he had been awake all summer. He soon realized that both of his grand parents hadn’t left for work yet, and he could talk to his grandmother. She was a psychologist. Atticus rolled out of bed, and changed his clothes; ran to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth and hair. He then scurried out to the kitchen, and met with his grand parents, eating their breakfast.

“Atticus?” Carol called out, “What are you doing up so early?”

“I don’t know? I had a weird dream.”

“A nightmare,” Erv said, “and you couldn’t get back to sleep?”

“Yup.”

“Well what was it?” His grandmother asked. Atticus tried as hard as he could to explain both of his dreams in the best detail. He was afraid they wouldn’t fully understand what he was talking about, but they remained as focused as when he started talking,

“Warlock, eh?” Erv said, “Sounds like your father talking.” Atticus looked at his grandfather with a confused look. “Your father used to use the words warlock and witch very often.”

“Why?” Atticus asked, “What was he like?”

“He was a strapping man, much like yourself. We first met him when your mother brought him home during her freshman year in high school.” Erv looked at his wife with a concerned look. She nodded her head, and he looked back at Atticus.

“Does my dream connect to my mom and dad, all because there was a man who called me a warlock?” Atticus said, “Was the man in the dream my dad?” neither of his grandparents said anything. Carol looked at Erv, and nodded again.

“Atticus,” Carol said, “Why don’t we go to the fair?”

“What? Why!?” Atticus questioned,

“To keep your mind off of your parents.” Erv said. Atticus had a sad expression on his face, but he soon put on a smile, and said,

“Okay.”

Erv and Carol both headed to work that morning, leaving Atticus alone, but he was used to that. He walked to the living room, which was basically what you’d expect of an old couple: Goldish-white carpet, old couch with a funky smell, rickety old coffee table, and a T.V. so old it needed an antenna, but he didn’t care. The only channels he ever watched were Nickolodeon, and sometimes he would watch the history channel with his grandfather.

Atticus flicked on the T.V. and changed it to the history channel. He heard there was a documentary on John Wilkes Booth that he had to watch. Atticus was into famous outlaws and criminals. When he changed the channel it was on a commercial about some cleaning product that he didn’t care for, but he watched it anyway. After three minutes of commercials that didn’t matter he finally got to the documentary.

As it came on Atticus noticed something strange. All of the pictures that showed the famous assassin’s face he didn’t have any pupils. Atticus thought it was strange. Even though the pictures were taken about 200 years ago, the eyes always had their pupils, and were well defined. Not only that, but all of the pictures gave John an evil smile which reminded Atticus of the strange gray man from his nightmare. Suddenly, the program froze up, and all the noise seemed to vanish, as if the whole world froze.

“What’s going on?” Atticus questioned. He looked at the picture of John Wilkes Booth, and it suddenly moved. It began to walk towards the screen, and Atticus was frozen in fear, “What!?”

“What’s the matter, Atticus?” The voice was that of the gray man, and Atticus froze in fear, “You love outlaws, and criminals.” Atticus tried to stand up, and run, but he was frozen in fear. The Gray man gave off an evil laugh, like in the dream. As the man laughed, reality slowly turned back to normal. Soon, the man was gone, the picture on the T.V. soon returned to normal, and noise began to run through Atticus’ ears.

Atticus laid down on the couch, his eyes wide, and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts ran through his mind as he wondered, “Who is that guy?” He couldn’t get the image out of his head, and he didn’t understand why such an old man could seem so scary.

After awhile, Atticus regained his senses, and returned to watching the documentary. He soon began to think that it was all just his imagination, and that he dozed off watching the T.V. It went until 3:30 PM, in which after words he went up to his room, and read his books.

His room was nothing special, just his mom’s old room, re-decorated for a teenager. It had blue walls, and white carpet. He had a double bed, with a black comforter, and two small wooden dressers where he’d put his clothes.

After a while of reading one of his favorite history novels, Atticus looked at the clock. It said 4:00, and he knew his grandparents would be home soon. He put down his book, put on his shoes, and put on his favorite red wind breaker, and went out to the main room to wait for his grandparents.

 

 

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Twig Newbie

Twig

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Is it too late to join? 'Cause if it's not I'd like too.

 

Username: Space Ranger Gold

Favorite Books: Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

[spoiler=Writing Example]

(Chapter 1)

The Gray Man

 

 

The night was dark; the moon was full. The faint song of crickets filled the air' date=' and the streetlights kept the streets lit. The neighborhood of Woodvale Drive was a place of big houses, and wealthy citizens. The grass was green, and white fences divided the yards of the homes, except for one house. The Reiser house was the biggest home on Woodvale, perched atop a large hill. It homed an old couple. Carol and Erwin Reiser, who were once wealthy land owners.

In the faintest of the dark night came a knock upon the Reiser door. The old Erv crawled out of bed, and stumbled to the front door. As he stumbled to the large wooden door of the mansion, he looked the peephole, and nearly fell back from shock. Erv quickly flung open the door, and welcomed the man inside,

“It’s been a very long time, old friend.” Erv said. The man walked in holding a bundled up old cloth, snug in his arm. He lifted one of his large hands and scratched his rugged black beard, and looked at Erv,

“Get Carol; She must here this too.” The man looked away from Erv, and down to the cloth he held in his arm. He glanced back to Erv, who then left to go wake up his wife,

“Carol,” Erv whispered, “Carol, wake up!”

Carol slowly opened her old eyes and gazed up at Erv, then at the clock. It was 3:13 AM. She then gazed back at Erv,

“What could be so important this early in the morning?” Erv looked away from her, and replied,

“He’s here; something must of happened,” Carol’s eyes opened as wide as they could. She then grabbed her glasses from their nightstand, and got out of bed as quick as she could. She tried to walk out of the room, which was engulfed in almost total darkness, to find the door, but Erv had to lead her out.

They walked through the long corridors of their home, and came back to the entrance where the man still stood; the cloth still in his arm,

“Please,” Carol asked, “What has happened?” The man held out the cloth in his arm. Carol reached out to grab it,

“Be careful!” The man spoke. Carol then slowly grabbed the blanket-like cloth. It was heavier than she expected, and out of curiosity began to peel away the blanket.

“Oh my god!” Carol gasped, “It’s-It’s!”

“What!?” Erv responded,

“It’s baby Atticus, William and Isabel’s boy!” Carol held out the blanket that held the baby boy, and showed it to Erv, whose eyes widened.

“I’m sorry to say this,” the man said, “but both of them have passed on. I’m not sure how.”

Erv and Carol stood shocked, holding the sleeping baby in their arms. A tear rolled down Carol’s cheek, and she looked down at Atticus,

“We’ll adopt him.” Erv mumbled, “I don’t want my only grandson to grow up in an orphanage!”

“That why I came here,” the man said. He took a letter out of his trench coat pocket, and gave it to Erv, “Don’t open that note until Atticus starts to ask strange questions. I’ll see you on that day.” and with that, the man disappeared from the Reiser home.

 

* * * * *

 

Twelve years have passed since that dreadful night and Atticus has grown to be a strapping young man. It is his summer vacation before his first year of high school, and though most kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement, Atticus was not a very popular boy at his school, mainly because of his interests. Atticus was not amongst kids like his own. He is always in his notebook, writing the classical story of a “loner” searching for a legendary “item” that would save the world from a mythical evil, and make him a “hero”.

Atticus had semi-long, rustled up, light-brown hair. His face was nothing too special; with a blemish here and there. He looked like an average, everyday teenager. Atticus took a weekly writing class every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, because his grandparents said it would be good for him to socialize.

Like any other, and every other, teenager in the world, Atticus has very odd dreams, but recently Atticus’ dreams have become very different. In his dreams, Atticus keeps seeing a large castle of abstract proportions. There is no solid structure to it, and it looks as if it is bound to fall at the slightest breeze, but it never does. The castle glowed with orange and brown bricks, which where so neatly polished that they shimmered like glass. The windows of the castle were no absolute shape, and none of them were in the same area. The castle itself was isolated from the rest of the world by trees, and long mountain ranges. Towards the top of the palace, it seemed to get smaller, coming to a small point, spiraling upward, but four large towers spawned out from the top, another reason why the castle looked so abstract, and ready to collapse.

Another thing would always happen in the dream. A man would always exit the castle from the large, wooden, entrance door. The man had a short, scraggly, gray beard, and his actions were simple: Leave the castle, head to a rock or tree, put his hand on it and mumble something, but on one night it was different. The man, like always, came from the castle, but this time instead of walking to a rock, or tree, he walked to Atticus. The man came face-to-face with him, and Atticus could see all the features of him.

The man was tall, and had a lanky body figure. His eyes were a pale yellow, and his skin had a light tan. His white hair fell to his shoulders, and his expression was bland. The man was wearing a long green cloak that fell down to his feet.

The man stood in front of Atticus for a short while, not doing anything. Atticus wanted to move away from the man, but he was totally immobile, as if he was tied up. Before Atticus could force himself awake, the man mumbled,

“You are a warlock,” and before Atticus could respond, he awoke, lying mangled in his bed.

He sat in his bed, the darkness surrounding the room. He remained sitting their wondering about his dream, “What was that?” Atticus said to himself. He laid back down, and stared into the darkness that covered his ceiling, “Warlock?” He thought to himself what the dream could have symbolized, but before he knew it, he fell back to sleep.

His dream, this time, took a completely different turn. The palace was gone, the trees were gone, and everything else was gone. All that existed this time was a black void of nothing. Atticus stood, as though on solid ground, but beneath his feet was nothing but black. He looked around for anything, but to no avail.

After a long while, Atticus gave up his search, and tried to sit down, but froze in place after hearing an ominous noise. A squeak; the kind of squeak you get when you ride your bike after forgetting to oil the chain. Atticus spun around to see what caused the squeak, and saw something both horrifying and confusing at the same time. A man riding a rusty, old, bicentennial bicycle, and was wearing a black trench coat that blended with the darkness. The man wore a large, wide smile, which sent fear through Atticus’s body, and his eyes had no pupils. His hair was a dark gray, slightly lighter than the darkness that surrounded him, but the strangest part of the man was his skin. It was a dark, rough, gray that was a tad darker than his hair, but lighter than his coat.

The man was slowly riding his bike towards Atticus. There was no noise except for the bike’s squeak, and a little chuckle coming from the man. Atticus normally wouldn’t be afraid of something like this, but something about this man terrified him to paralyzed state. The man came and parked in front of Atticus. He stuck out his scraggly, boney hand and grabbed Atticus’ throat. The man let out a high-pitched wail, and began to laugh, which forced Atticus awake.

Atticus grabbed his throat, and felt a cold chill where the gray man had grabbed him. He then took his hand off his throat, and gazed at his alarm clock. It was 7:17 AM, the earliest he had been awake all summer. He soon realized that both of his grand parents hadn’t left for work yet, and he could talk to his grandmother. She was a psychologist. Atticus rolled out of bed, and changed his clothes; ran to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth and hair. He then scurried out to the kitchen, and met with his grand parents, eating their breakfast.

“Atticus?” Carol called out, “What are you doing up so early?”

“I don’t know? I had a weird dream.”

“A nightmare,” Erv said, “and you couldn’t get back to sleep?”

“Yup.”

“Well what was it?” His grandmother asked. Atticus tried as hard as he could to explain both of his dreams in the best detail. He was afraid they wouldn’t fully understand what he was talking about, but they remained as focused as when he started talking,

“Warlock, eh?” Erv said, “Sounds like your father talking.” Atticus looked at his grandfather with a confused look. “Your father used to use the words warlock and witch very often.”

“Why?” Atticus asked, “What was he like?”

“He was a strapping man, much like yourself. We first met him when your mother brought him home during her freshman year in high school.” Erv looked at his wife with a concerned look. She nodded her head, and he looked back at Atticus.

“Does my dream connect to my mom and dad, all because there was a man who called me a warlock?” Atticus said, “Was the man in the dream my dad?” neither of his grandparents said anything. Carol looked at Erv, and nodded again.

“Atticus,” Carol said, “Why don’t we go to the fair?”

“What? Why!?” Atticus questioned,

“To keep your mind off of your parents.” Erv said. Atticus had a sad expression on his face, but he soon put on a smile, and said,

“Okay.”

Erv and Carol both headed to work that morning, leaving Atticus alone, but he was used to that. He walked to the living room, which was basically what you’d expect of an old couple: Goldish-white carpet, old couch with a funky smell, rickety old coffee table, and a T.V. so old it needed an antenna, but he didn’t care. The only channels he ever watched were Nickolodeon, and sometimes he would watch the history channel with his grandfather.

Atticus flicked on the T.V. and changed it to the history channel. He heard there was a documentary on John Wilkes Booth that he had to watch. Atticus was into famous outlaws and criminals. When he changed the channel it was on a commercial about some cleaning product that he didn’t care for, but he watched it anyway. After three minutes of commercials that didn’t matter he finally got to the documentary.

As it came on Atticus noticed something strange. All of the pictures that showed the famous assassin’s face he didn’t have any pupils. Atticus thought it was strange. Even though the pictures were taken about 200 years ago, the eyes always had their pupils, and were well defined. Not only that, but all of the pictures gave John an evil smile which reminded Atticus of the strange gray man from his nightmare. Suddenly, the program froze up, and all the noise seemed to vanish, as if the whole world froze.

“What’s going on?” Atticus questioned. He looked at the picture of John Wilkes Booth, and it suddenly moved. It began to walk towards the screen, and Atticus was frozen in fear, “What!?”

“What’s the matter, Atticus?” The voice was that of the gray man, and Atticus froze in fear, “You love outlaws, and criminals.” Atticus tried to stand up, and run, but he was frozen in fear. The Gray man gave off an evil laugh, like in the dream. As the man laughed, reality slowly turned back to normal. Soon, the man was gone, the picture on the T.V. soon returned to normal, and noise began to run through Atticus’ ears.

Atticus laid down on the couch, his eyes wide, and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts ran through his mind as he wondered, “Who is that guy?” He couldn’t get the image out of his head, and he didn’t understand why such an old man could seem so scary.

After awhile, Atticus regained his senses, and returned to watching the documentary. He soon began to think that it was all just his imagination, and that he dozed off watching the T.V. It went until 3:30 PM, in which after words he went up to his room, and read his books.

His room was nothing special, just his mom’s old room, re-decorated for a teenager. It had blue walls, and white carpet. He had a double bed, with a black comforter, and two small wooden dressers where he’d put his clothes.

After a while of reading one of his favorite history novels, Atticus looked at the clock. It said 4:00, and he knew his grandparents would be home soon. He put down his book, put on his shoes, and put on his favorite red wind breaker, and went out to the main room to wait for his grandparents.

 

 

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Accepted.

 

Oh yeah' date=' Twig, could you add Two Perspectives to the FF list?

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Sure.

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