Blind Rainbow {Aesthetics + Poems}

Hello, dears!

***NOTE: I had to re-publish this a couple of times since WordPress wasn’t cooperating. Sorry if you’ve seen it more than once!***

Anyway. Here’s an interesting question: how would you describe your favorite color to a blind person? It’s HARD, isn’t it? I tried writing a description of my favorite color without the word “purple” in it, and had so much fun that I wrote a bunch more!

Today I’m going to try to describe ten different colors in no particular order using little poems or sketches in such a way that you can figure out which color I’m referring to without me actually naming it. (Did that make any sense?) I’ll follow each sketch with a photo in case you need a hint, so scroll slow if you don’t want spoilers. XD Have fun!

Continue reading

Write Christmas: My Entry

Heyyy, guys! DID YOU KNOW IT’S ALMOST CHRISTMAS? Oh, you did? Well. Anyway, speaking of Christmas, I entered the “Write Christmas” writing contest (see details here), and I wanted to show you guys my submission today! 🙂

First, can I just say that writing an 800-word story is REALLY hard? I mean I love writing short stories, but this was a very short short story. O.o I edited and fiddled with it and finally got it down to exactly 800 words. XD

At the same time, a small word limit was quite helpful for practicing tight, clean writing, which I loved. Okay, enough about that stuff – here’s the story! I put the prompts I used at the end so they don’t spoil anything. 😉

Christmas Coal

William heard them whispering when they thought he was asleep. He wasn’t asleep because he was cold; that was what they were whispering about. The coldest Christmas Eve anyone could remember, with no coal to guard them from the gnashing, growling, wild wind that clawed through their leaking walls.

The boy’s heart ached as his mother’s whisper turned to a sob, and he wished longingly that he had money to get them coal for Christmas. But he had nothing – until the wind swept an idea into the room. William brushed his black hair out of his face along with the cold, dark thoughts, and fell asleep smiling.

The plan recycled itself through his head the next morning when he catapulted into the snowy streets. Every night on Christmas Eve, St. Nicholas appeared in the town square to spread gifts to children gathered there. But before he did, he always asked if they had been good that year, else they would get naught from him but coal. A bag of coal, and just for being naughty!

William’s first victim was a horse and carriage. He darted in front of a strutting gray mare, shouting and waving his hands until the horse reared back in terror, nearly slamming the carriage into an iron railing. There, he thought grimly. Surely that was naughty enough for a bag of coal. But as he spun around to leave, the driver clambered out of his seat and rushed toward the boy, whose eyes widened as he was met not with a box to the ears, but an embrace.

“Oh! What a brave one ye are, lad! M’horse wouldna be prancin’ so pretty if na for thee. Who could ha made so deep a pit right in t’middle o’ t’street, I canna fathom, but I bless the good Lord who sent thee today.” The old man winked and pressed a silver-wrapped chocolate into the boy’s palm. He watched blankly as the driver remounted and carefully maneuvered his steed around the snow-covered hole. All that risk for nothing! Ah well, at least he had thought of a second plan.

William shuffled slowly along the sidewalk, waiting for an older boy and girl to pass. When they did, he rushed between them, holding a sprig of mistletoe above their heads. The boy and girl stopped and glanced at each other with delighted smiles of recognition, then at the leaves in the air. The older boy chuckled awkwardly. The girl blushed and murmured something. Suddenly, to William’s horror, they kissed, right under his hands! He drew back in disgust, but not before the girl had pressed a golden butterscotch into his hand.

“I’ve been waiting so long,” she whispered happily. “Thank you. And Merry Christmas!” The boy only nodded in confusion and stumbled off, leaving the two talking and smiling together. How could this have happened again? At this rate he was never going to get his coal!

But as the afternoon wore on, each new plan was received with gratitude and a piece of candy instead of the angry words he eagerly anticipated. Why was it so hard to be naughty now, and so easy the rest of the year when he tried to be good?

Finally, as night arrived, William had one last chance. There sat a bag coal, waiting temptingly on the doorstep of a shabby house for him to snatch it up and race home. But his hand was stayed by snatches of a carol sung in a sweet, high voice nearby. “Do you know what I know? A child, a child, shivers in the cold – let us bring him silver and gold, let us bring him silver and gold!”

The boy stopped. He pulled his thin jacket closer around him and closed his eyes miserably. If the High King had given up Paradise to shiver in a cold stable that he might warm the icy, sinful heart of all the world, how could he steal warmth from a stranger who might need it more than he? William knew the answer: he couldn’t. He would gather some wood from the park, and though it wouldn’t burn long, it would warm his family for a bit. And at least he had the candy.

But William gazed at his handful of gold and silver sweets in his palm, and then looked up to see the caroler standing near. She was very small and thin, with dirty red hair and hollow cheeks. Her eyes were bright, and she was smiling at him.

All at once he stood up and held out the candy. The girl gasped with delight. Then she caught up the bag of coal behind him and held it out too. “Take it, please,” she beamed. “It’s an extra bag. We call it Christmas Coal.”


Prompts Used:

Ah, that was fun. 🙂 I hope you enjoyed reading it, dears! And since this post is so short, I thought I’d include some of my favorite Christmas songs/videos I discovered this year. The first one is hilarious, and the other two are just beautiful (and did you know the second one is sung by a fifteen-year-old?!). ♥ Let me know which one was your favorite, and Merry Christmas! 😀




CPC #6: ~ e x p e d i t i o n {Part 2} ~

GUYS, THIS IS THE LAST CPC. :O I’ve enjoyed coming up with ideas for this super neat and creative challenge, but I will also be glad to get back to normal posting. 🙂 I hope you like this final entry: the sequel so many of you guys requested to my last CPC post. Here’s a little refresher from the previous story…

And so as they walked slowly back to Aeryn’s house, he gradually pulled their past out of the mist. And the twins, listening with wide eyes, almost wished it had stayed there.

Ready to uncover the secrets of the twins’ past? Okay, let’s do this.

Prompts Used: 2

Photos Submitted: 2

Art Submitted: 5

Total Points: 17


~ e x p e d i t i o n {Part 2} ~

“All this started way far back and a long, long time ago; so far and so long that you have to close your eyes to see the palm trees waving and close your ears to hear the ocean whispering at you.


There now, you see it? That’s my island. It isn’t really mine, but I like to think so, and that’s where the problem is. Everybody likes to think it’s their island.

“As far back as our minds can reach, there were two different kinds of people who lived there and two different kinds of people who wanted it for their own. One was white like you, one was black like me. And they hated each other. If you set your foot on the wrong side of the island, the side where the other folks’ lived, you weren’t gonna come back anytime soon. In fact, you weren’t coming back at all.

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“Both people invented all sorts of ways to hurt each other, and the worst way was banishment. They built a rickety ol’ boat whose main feature was its leakiness, then they trussed you with vines, plopped you in that boat and shoved you off to drown, starve, sink, or all of the above. Sometimes, the two sides even banished their own people, particularly if they weren’t strong or looked funny. See, both sides thought maybe if they weeded out all the weak people, they’d finally be strong enough to conquer the other side.

“But sometimes the weak ones were really the strongest and we didn’t even know it. There was this girl…” Terence swallowed hard. “I’m mighty ashamed to tell this part, but I have to. There was this girl who looked the strangest I’ve ever seen. Some of her skin was black and some was white, all splotched and patched together.

Tasha. Perfect!
via Pinterest (Not my picture.)

“We hated that girl. I hated that girl. We wanted to banish her, but she was the chief’s daughter and he wouldn’t let us, even though he was always banishing other people. But one day we gave him the slip and sent her off, thinking we’d seen the last of her.”

“But we were wrong. A couple months later, she was back in a better boat, and she had a white girl with her that had one brown eye and one blue.

{via Pinterest} Edited by me.

“And they were friends. Her story is awfully interesting too, but my stomach says there’s no time to tell that one right now.” Terence stopped for a moment on the steep path and panted. “Hey, are we close to your house by any chance? My stomach sure is mad at me.”

“We’re about halfway,” Aeryn said impatiently, “but you haven’t finished the story yet. You didn’t get to the part about us.”

Terence winked at the girls. “Alright, I s’pose a few more minutes without food isn’t gonna make a difference when I’ve managed for two days without it so far.”

Tasha looked horrified, but clamped her mouth shut when Terence began again. “Okay, where was I… oh yeah. When those girls came back, something changed. Their friendship and the fact that Kalea survived shocked my people straight off the wrong path and onto the right one. We realized we would be strongest when we united instead of divided ourselves. And we came up with a plan.

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Very strange, I know. XD


“There’s a legend that the white prince started the scorn of weakness because his sisters were… different, somehow. We don’t know how because the prince’s father was so ashamed of them he made sure to keep them hidden – or perhaps they disappeared or died. It’s anyone’s guess. Anyway, the prince’s first act as ruler was to banish the two white twins of a palace servant because twins were not normal, and in his eyes, bad.”

Tasha’s eyes widened. “Where the twins us?”

Aeryn scowled when Terence nodded ‘yes.’ “We never stood a chance, did we?”

“That’s the sad part – you did, once. The prince used to love you two, and your parents were his close friends or something, even though they were servants. The prince was just a normal boy growing up, but as soon as he became ruler, something happened. No one knows what, but suddenly even the sight of someone different blew his top, and it’s said that your parents had something to do with it.”

“Who were our parents?” Tasha and Aeryn asked together, breathless.

Terence shrugged. “Don’t know. Your whole family and past is kinda covered in mystery. The prince took care to keep it that way. But even so (or maybe because of that), you girls have become a sort of legend on our island. I still can’t believe you girls are alive and that I found you!”

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Aeryn looked thoughtful. “Yeah, but how did you find us anyway? Where you looking for us?”

“Well not you, specifically, but for people like you who had been banished and might have survived like Kalea did. We figured if we found some of the people the white prince banished, they would be so grateful that we rescued them, they would join us. See, we need all the help we can get if we’re going to unite the island again. And if you girls joined us… well, maybe you could shock the prince back on track too. If you lead us, my people will follow.”

The twins paled. Leave their beloved island to lead a people they didn’t even know existed, in a place they’d never heard of before? Talk to the very one who had banished them?

Aeryn stopped at a tall tree and said shakily, “Let us… let us think about it for a while. Everything happened to us at once. Our whole world and everything we thought we knew exploded in the space of a few hours, and we’re still reeling. But,” she said, trying to smile, “in the meantime, welcome to our… I mean my home!” Terence stepped leaned back to see the tree house and whistled appreciatively.

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The girls jumped.

“How did you make that sound?” Aeryn asked curiously. “The one that sounded like a bird?”

Terence raised his eyebrows. “You mean whistling? Shucks, you girls sure have a lot to learn. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Up we go, huh?”

Aeryn climbed nimbly up the rope ladder, but Tasha climbed slowly and shakily. “Hey, don’t worry, Tasha,” Terence called from a few rungs below her. “If you fall, I’ll catch you.” He smiled his easy smile at her and she smiled back shyly. Finally they reached the top, and he whistled again when he opened the rough wooden door.

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“This is pretty good for two girls, I have to admit! Say, where’d you get all this stuff? And what’s this?” He pointed to a rusty woven-wire basket on wheels that held a pile of treasures – old tin cans, pretty pebbles and bits of sea glass, and a jumbled mess of other things he’d never seen before.


Tasha beamed proudly. “The sea gave them to us. This thing was one of the things we found on our first expedition. We were so little we could hardly drag it up here.”

Prompt picture (not mine).

She selected a battered up pan from the driftwood shelf and set about preparing some clam soup for Terence, who was running his dark hands over the rusty metal cart. “Wow, I’ve never seen anything like this before. It certainly didn’t come from our island.”

Suddenly his eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. “Wait. I just thought of something. All the sudden everything makes sense. What if the prince banished you because you were from another island, one that he was afraid of? The one that all this stuff came from? Maybe he used your “weakness” as an excuse to banish you. Maybe that wasn’t the real reason.” He put his hands on their shoulders and looked into their eyes. “Tasha, Aeryn… we need to figure out your past. It just might be the key to my people’s future.”


Dun-dun-DUNNNN! I know that was a cliffhanger, but you’re going to have to wait to see how it turns out… maybe for a long time. XD While I was brainstorming this story, I got an idea for a whole series! Kalea’s story would probably be the first book, the twins’ story would be the second, and I don’t know about the rest. So maybe one day I’ll write a whole book about the twins and you’ll get to see what happens! Maybe… 😛

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, dears, and thanks for reading!


CPC #5: ~ e x p e d i t i o n ~

Hey there, my dears! I’m back with another Cameras and Pens Contest challenge! Part of these characters and storyline ideas are from a story I’ve been rolling around in my head for a couple of years. Who knows, maybe I’ll write it sometime. Until then, I hope you enjoy this short story and accompanying illustrations! 🙂


Prompts Used: 3

Art Submitted: 6

Photos Submitted: 3

Total Points: 22


~ e x p e d i t i o n ~

Aeryn slung her backpack over her shoulder, swept up her long, mocha-brown hair into a loose bun, and headed over to her sister’s house. Her leather moccasins padded silently over the springy path of moss and lush undergrowth that grew up so fast in the island’s rainforest climate. She grabbed a handful of pink berries in passing and chewed them contentedly, humming to herself and wondering if they would find anything interesting on their expedition today. They nearly always found something good after a storm.

She felt the familiar thrill as she raced across the plank-and-vine bridge they had built years ago, smiling as the floor bounced and swayed under her feet and the rough vines slid quickly past her fingers. Had it really been four years since they had built it together?

Related image
Prompt picture. Not mine. (Although I wish it was. XD)

Aeryn wondered for the millionth time how many years before that they had lived on this island, or if they had lived her all their lives. She wondered if the world was just water past this island or if there were more islands somewhere else. The current was too vicious and protective to let them get anywhere out of sight of the shoreline even if they’d wanted to leave.CPC 4 (910x1280)

She sighed as she walked straight up to her sister’s wooden door instead of climbing a rope ladder like there was at her own house. That was one of the reasons she and her sister had decided to live separately: Aeryn loved heights and Tasha despised them. She was about to push open the door when she noticed the yellow pumpkin staring innocently up at her from the step.

“Hey, Tash,” Aeryn said as she stepped inside the airy room. The sunlight filtering through the palm-leaf roof danced across her sister hair – hair the exact same shade as hers.CPC 1 (1280x924)


Tasha looked up from the bag she was filling for the expedition. “Yeah?”

“Why is your pumpkin still here?”

“What are you talking about? I threw it out a long time ago.”

Aeryn shook her head. “Then how come it’s sitting on your step again? And hold on, was the scarecrow like that yesterday?”

Tasha heaved the sack onto her shoulder and peered out the open window. She looked surprised to see the pumpkin sitting there and the scarecrow lying forlornly in the dirt nearby. She shrugged. “Huh. Maybe Terence was in a bad mood or something.”

Aeryn followed her sister out of the house, frowning. “I… don’t think so. How could a toucan knock over that heavy scarecrow? It was probably the wind from the storm last night.CPC 6.jpgThey argued about it as they hiked down the hill, under towering trees dripping with moss and vines and ferns, past roaring waterfalls that sprinkled their faces, over twinkling creeks, and around huge green-haired boulders.

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This picture and the one above are from this post.

When they reached the shore they still hadn’t arrived at a conclusion, but suddenly the argument died on their lips.

“What,” Tasha whispered, “is that?

Something black and shiny and covered with seaweed sprawled in a heap at the edge of the ocean. Tasha hung back, but Aeryn crept closer and narrowed her eyes, inspecting the thing closely. She chewed her lip and scrunched her nose in concentration. They had never seen anything like this on their expeditions. She flicked off a piece of seaweed and then screeched, scrambling back in terror as the black thing made a shuddering movement.

“Tasha, it’s… alive.”

Tasha’s eyes widened as wide as they could go, which was considerably wide seeing as her eyes were quite large to begin with. “Is it a beached whale?” she asked in a hushed voice.

In answer, the black heap began to move again, slowly and with what looked like great effort. As it unfolded itself, the two sisters could make out a head and a body, arms and legs, and rumpled gray clothes.

And a face. A face like theirs and yet completely different. While the girls both had light brown hair and lightly tanned skin and light periwinkle eyes, everything about the stranger was dark: curly black hair and glistening black-brown skin and black-brown eyes to match.CPC 2 (1280x853)CPC 3 (1280x854)The stranger just stared dazedly at them for a while as if trying to sort something out in his head, and then spoke in a soft but oddly deep voice. A voice like the rich bitter-sweetness of cacao beans, Tasha thought. “I’m not a whale. I’m a boy; Terence.”

The girls blinked and backed away. This was getting way too strange. For one thing, what on earth was a boy? And for another thing, Terence was their pet toucan, not this… whatever it was… this chocolate person.

Terence laughed a raspy but booming laugh, and the girls jumped. “I guess you never heard of boys, huh? Because you… wow you girls must be The Twins.” He stopped and looked awestruck for a moment. “Thirteen years. Thirteen years on this island, all by yourself. And – just look at you! As like as two peas in a pod.” He shook his head in amazement. “I can’t believe it, I sure can’t believe it.”

A hundred thoughts were screaming to be picked up in the girls’ minds. What are twins? We’ve really been here thirteen years? I didn’t even know anyone knew about us. I didn’t even know there was anyone else. Is this Tarence person safe? But finally Aeryn chased down one of the questions, grabbed it by the tail, and forced it out her mouth. “Are you… one of us?”

He smiled, flashing the big, bright white teeth set into his dark face. “Sure am.” He saw them looking him up and down and cleared his throat. “Well, I mean I’m not exactly like you – you’re girls and I’m a boy, you know. See… it’s like with animals. Two different kinds of the same animals, two different kinds of same humans – boys and girls. See?”

When they still looked skeptical, he added, “Well that and my skin is a different color, but that don’t make any difference. Lots of folks are all different colors, but we’re still people, see? We might look a little different on the outside, but our insides be the same colors. Not that I ever checked for certain, you understand.” He flashed another grin and they tried to return it but failed miserably.

... (2).jpg

Two brilliant butterflies chased each other past his face and his eyebrows jumped. “Oh hey, I know. Okay, so some butterflies gonna be yellow, some gonna be red, others gonna be black, see? But they’re all butterflies just the same, and they’re all downright pretty no matter the color. Make sense? Now, course we’re different from those butterflies, you know, ’cause they don’t even know they’re different colors atall, they don’t even know what colors are, now do they?” He looked at them kindly and they nodded, relaxing at last, understanding at last. “You got me. I knew you would. You’re not scared of me now, huh?”

They smiled a little and shook their heads. Tasha stepped forward just a bit and said shyly, “I’m not scared. I think you’re beautiful. I wish I could have chocolate skin.”

Terence chuckled gratefully. “Naw, you’re skin is good the way it is. I think you’re beautiful too – both of you.” He smiled easily at them, then shook his head in amazement again. “I can’t believe I just been talking to the famous Twins! We all thought you was dead! Aw shucks, I thought I was gonna be dead when that storm come up. That ocean don’t seem to want people to find you, huh? I guess it’s pretty good at keeping secrets. But I’m done with secrets. I’ve had too many for my liking already, so I’ll tell you anything you want to know if you want to hear it. And say, you girls better tell me how you managed to survive all the way out here! But first…” Terence broke off and looked down at himself guiltily. “Do y’all have a place where I could refresh myself? And maybe… get a drink or a bite to eat?”

His eyes gleamed longingly as he spoke the last words and Tasha, the motherly one, could see that he was quite in need of nourishment. Aeryn at last had warmed up to his easy manner and was willing to help him, on the condition he would talk while they walked.

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That wasn’t a hard condition for Terence, who routinely also talked while he slept. And so as they walked slowly back to Aeryn’s house, he gradually pulled their past out of the mist. And the twins, listening with wide eyes, almost wished it had stayed there.


That was rather fun to write. 😀 Did you enjoy this story? What was your favorite piece of art or photo?

Also I know I just posted CPC challenge not too long ago and now here’s another one, so I may or may not just post the next challenge on my CWWC page. (Hmm, perhaps I need to change that title. XD) If you’re interested, I also have the two other challenges I did not post so far on that page as well.

Have a lovely day, lovely people! ♥


P. S. If you’re in the mood for more reading, you should totally check out the latest WordCrafters chapter here! Sarah did an amazing job on it. 😀

CPC #4: ~ t h e c l o u d j o u r n a l ~

Heyyy, guys! I’m back with another CPC entry for Carol‘s writing challenge! I actually spent a rather long time on this (especially on the art and such) because I was determined to earn a lot of points for my team this time. XD SO YOU GUYS BETTER LIKE IT. Juuuust kidding. I do hope you enjoy, though! 🙂

Prompts used: 2

Photos submitted: 12

Art submitted: 6

Total points: 39

Callie’s Cloud Journal

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Purpose: To record my cloud dreaming, for further analyzation in case I’m a famous scientist some day.

Materials: Pen and paper.

Hypothesis: You can do things two ways: the art way or the science way. I am a science child. Most of the time.

Data/Observations: I guess I should do a little introduction since this is an autobiography. You have probably already concluded two things from the data given: my name is Callie and I am a very scientifically-minded child. I have concluded that if I have a choice of doing something with the left side of my brain or the right side, approximately 97% of the time I will choose the left side.

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Take baking for an example. Some people think of baking as a work of art: they can take a pinch of this and a dash of that and make a masterpiece. Art is not my strength. I excel in precision. I always weigh my ingredients to the tenth decimal place and make sure the cup of flour is perfectly level and the brownies are cut in exactly 2 inch by 2 inch squares. I follow instructions to the letter, and to the numbers and punctuation marks too.

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Perhaps you’re wondering where the other 3% of right-minded-ness comes from. Well, that’s the subject of this entry – this entire journal, in fact. This data is super secret – it may or may not make it into my actual autobiography when and if I publish it in the distant future. But I guess this paper won’t spill any secrets because it cannot speak. (I meant that as a joke, in case you were wondering. Sometimes people aren’t sure whether I’m joking or not because in addition to being a very scientifically-minded child, I am also very serious.)

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But back to the subject. Basically the only times I use my right brain for thinking involve clouds. I enjoy studying clouds – always have – but this is not studying. It is… well, daydreaming, as much as I hate to admit it.

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I close my eyes and focus on sending false messages to my mechanoreceptors. All I do is imagine what I wish clouds would feel like so hard and so long that my nerves are tricked, and when I stretch out my hand, I feel it. (Now, I know clouds are actually made of water droplets and that I have in reality felt them many times when I walk in fog, but I told you – this is the 3%. The other 97% of the time I send my brain such accurate information that it’s easily fooled for cloud dreaming.)

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I have a list of ten different clouds I choose from. If I’m really angry I’ll go with stratus or nimbostratus, and occasionally I’ll choose cirrus, but my favorite is cumulus.

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Today I chose my favorite, Cloud Nine – a cumulus cloud tinged with lavender and coral pink. Cumulus clouds feel warm and silky soft and puffy, like sitting in a pile of memory foam covered with the fuzziest blanket ever, or on a giant, lightly toasted marshmallow without the stickiness.

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What do I do on my cloud?

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Prompt picture. (Not mine.)


I look out the window and observe. I take notes.

 Miles. 16. Wearing a completely black suit. Independent, entrepreneurial.

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Jayne. 15. Wearing a hot pink and cyan jumpsuit. Fashion-obsessed, talkative.

CPC 3 (853x1280)I have no facts, no data about the people I see, only observations and the hypotheses I come up with myself. It’s a good exercise, and sitting on clouds helps with it somehow. My theory is that after my brain gets started by imagining clouds, it’s easier to imagine how old a person is, what their name might be, etcetera. I’m not certain of this, though, and that’s another reason I want to start this journal.

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Today after I observed those two aforementioned people, I heard a sound so loud it nearly vibrated the fluid in my cochlea right out of my ear.

I looked out the window again and nearly fell off Cloud Nine. Miles had met Jayne and I watched as he pulled his own cloud out of his briefcase and was offering it to her.

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I’m serious. And the loud sound? It was Jayne shrieking. This was going to be interesting.


ISN’T THAT CLOUD SO CUTE? I’ll talk more about it in a minute, but hold on.

Anyway, heh heh, that was more of a character sketch than a short story – the plot never really got off the ground (pun intended). But it was quite interesting to write because Callie is basically the opposite of me in every way. I am definitely an art child, as you have probably picked up through my blog. 😉

Okay. Before you go, here are a few bonus pictures that I didn’t get to work into the story.

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Ugh this cloud painting didn’t exactly turn out how I imagined. I’ve never seen such strange, wobbly sun rays. Oh well… let’s call it artistic license. *Sigh* Except for that one pink “Cloud Nine” picture, I am terrible at drawing realistic clouds, so this was great practice!

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I got the gorgeous warm cumulus cloud pictures coming back from a vacation.

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And now for the fluzzy cloud. THIS LITTLE GUY IS WAY TOO CUTE. I simply bunched up a piece of felting wool in my hand, took these pictures, and then added the face on PicMonkey.

For some reason I LOVE IT. Also help, I need name suggestions. Yes I am going to name a blob of felting wool. I mean, I’m a teenage girl, what do you expect? 😛 XD

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Well, I hope you enjoyed the story and the pictures and art, dears. 🙂 Oh, and if you’re interested in reading more of my CPC entries, you can see my first entry here and my 2nd and 3rd entries here, on my CWWC page. I didn’t make a separate post for the two on the page, but I’d love to hear what you think!

Do you have a favorite photo/piece of art? Are you a science child or an art child? Any name suggestions for Mr. Fluzzy? (Hey, there’s an idea…)


P. S. Tomorrow I will announce the winner of my giveaway! I’M SO EXCITED. Also I apologize for all the outbursts in this post. O.o Heh.

WordCrafters 3!

IT’S HERE, GUYS! YAYAYAYAY! I am so looking forward to reading your lovely chapters this go ’round. 😀

Here is the list of participants and their order. Please let me know if those weeks absolutely will NOT work for you, and I’ll do my best to change it.

  1. Allison/Josie
  2. Silver Wisp
  3. Nicole
  4. Lainey
  5. K. A.
  6. Mukta
  7. Megan
  8. Zielle
  9. Mahriya
  10. Hope
  11. Mercury Vivian Eliza
  12. Anika Joy
  13. Chloe
  14. Charis (Grace)
  15. Mirra
  16. Sarah
  17. LydiaFinn
  18. EnniMorgan
  19. Allison/Josie

For a quick review of the rules, I’ll show you the first chapter here shortly, and then the next person, will write the second chapter based on where it ends and the loose plot outline I’ll give you. After a maximum of one week, it’s the next person’s turn. If you finish your story before one week, that would be great too! It will make WordCrafters move forward a little more quickly.

I decided to put the pictures of the characters and their descriptions on the WordCrafters 3 page so this post wouldn’t get insanely long. XD


Now for the first chapter. Eeeee, I’m so excited! I hope you enjoy!


Esme was having a wonderful day. Little waves nibbled at her toes, sun rays warmed her back, and the seashell she had found felt cool and smooth in her palm. Vivi was sunbathing on her beach towel a few feet away, and Pippin… Esme shook her head and smiled. Pippin was sneaking up to Vivi with a pail of freezing ocean water. He beamed Esme a mischievous grin and dumped the bucket over Vivi’s head.

Esme had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Vivi scrambled to her feet, spluttering with rage and surprise, and ran after Pippin, yelling and threatening to dunk him in the water if he so much as touched her again.

She heaved a happy sigh. Life was good.

Esme settled back into the sand and took another fond look at her seashell. It was perfect, spiraling around and around, each spiral smaller than the last. It reminded her of a giant, periwinkle snail shell. She turned the shell over to gaze into the pearly opening. Suddenly, she gasped. Her eyes widened. She shook the shell, tapped it gently on the ground, and finally reached inside with her slender fingers and pulled out a scrap of paper.

“Pippin, Vivi, come quick! Look what I found!” she called excitedly.

They halted the chase and trotted obediently over to Esme.

“What is it, Esme?” asked Pippin. In answer, she handed him the scrap.

Pippin frowned and read aloud, “‘Item 7: fourteen mermaid scales.’ What on earth?”

Vivi snatched it from him, “Wait, and there’s something on the back: ‘Operation Portal Icxylwocig, property of P. Charming.’”

The three friends looked at each other with wide eyes. Was it time to go back?


Alalia was having a wonderful day. She and her cousin Jacob were testing out his new boat, the “Captain Hook,” at the beach. A stiff breeze filled the sail and they skimmed gracefully through the water. She leaned over the side, trailing her hands in the cool water, and…

“JACOB! Come look!”

Jacob started in surprise. “What on earth, Alalia? You nearly knocked me overboard!” Jacob rolled his eyes, but grinned good-naturedly. He made his way over to her side of the boat. “What-“ He left the word hanging as a flash of green and red flew under their boat. He rubbed his eyes. Alalia blinked.

There it was again – a long, green, fish-like tail, with red hair was streaming out above it.

“A mermaid,” Alalia whispered.

They looked at each other. Could this mean what they thought it did?


The next day Pippin, Vivi, and Esme all hurried back to the beach. They scoured the shore for more notes, leaving no shell unturned.


Finally the three of them plopped down on a rock, discouraged. Two other teenagers were walking in their direction, chatting intently about something.

“I’m just sure it was a mermaid,” the girl was saying. “What if it was Ariel?”

The boy shook his head. “I dunno. I mean, if it’s really her, why is she in the human world and not in Fairyland? I realize we didn’t see her when we visited but-“

They both stopped short when they noticed the three children listening to them with wide eyes and open mouths.

Vivi spoke first. “Are you guys talking about… mermaids?”

The two teenagers looked embarrassed. “Oh… um, we were just…”

“And something about Fairyland?”

“Well, we-“

“So we aren’t the only ones!”

The boy looked startled. “Wait, what?”

Pippin hopped off the rock and held out the mysterious note. “Have a look at this. We found it yesterday in a shell.”

A look of recognition flitted over the girl’s face. “Icxylwocig. I saw that on a sign in the forest, when I first came through the portal.” Then she caught herself. “Oh, I mean…”

“Really? You guys went through a portal?!” Vivi was excited now. “So did we! Well, kind of. See, one day we found this huge, weird-looking egg…”

And with that, everyone started talking at once, racing each other to tell their wonderful adventures.

After many words and tales and names were exchanged, the five children felt like they had been friends for years. It was easy to become friends with the only other people in the world who understand your biggest secret.

“But now we need to figure out what this note means,” Pippin said, getting back to business. “It could be some sort of portal instrument or something, to take us back.”

“Or maybe it has something to do with our mermaid sighting? You know, the part about the mermaid scales?” Jacob suggested.


Esme had been listening quietly to everyone else’s talk, until at last she spoke up shyly, in her soft voice: “I-I have an idea.” Everyone turned toward her expectantly.

“Well, you know how it says, ‘Operation Portal Icxylwocig? And the mermaid scales section sounds like part of a recipe. Maybe P. Charming, whoever that is, was trying to make a sort of recipe for a portal to get to Fairyland?”

Everyone nodded their heads thoughtfully.

“Yeah, and you need mermaid scales to make it!” Alalia jumped in. “And maybe the ‘Item 7’ part means it’s the 7th ingredient or something.”

Vivi jumped up suddenly. “Guys, wait. What if we found all the ingredients and made the portal ourselves? Then if that really was Ariel that Jacob and Alalia saw, we could take her back to Fairyland, and everything would be perfect!”

At that, everyone started talking excitedly.

“HOLD IT!” yelled Jacob. “Does anyone know a P. Charming? If we could find him, maybe he’d give us the rest of the notes.”

“But if he knows all the ingredients, maybe he’s already made the portal… maybe that’s how I got to Fairyland in the first place,” Alalia pointed out.

Everyone was silent for a moment, thinking.

Suddenly Esme’s face brightened. “Oh, I just remembered! We have Katri’s diary! Maybe there’s something in there about portals!”

“Brilliant!” Pippin shouted in delight. “Let’s go check!”


Precious minutes ticked away as Pippin, Vivi, and Esme introduced their new friends to their parents, but finally the five children were safely in the girls’ bedroom at the beach house. Esme held out a violet leather journal studded with glittering stones.

Jacob wrinkled his nose, “Ew, you can tell that’s a fairy’s diary. Look at all that purple sparkly stuff.” Everyone laughed. “So are we going to read the whole thing or what?”

Vivi frowned. “Nah, that would take way too long. Here, I’ve read the first entry already, so I can just give you a summary while Esme looks for the entry about portals.”

Vivi cleared her throat with a mock-serious expression, and began. “So Snow White got banished from her home in Fairyland after she herself banished Ariel, Katri’s sister, out of jealousy.”

Jacob snorted. “Number one, how can a mermaid be sisters with a fairy? And number two, she banished her out of jealousy?”

Vivi sighed impatiently. “Number one, I am not an expert on family relations in Fairyland. I don’t know, maybe one of them was adopted or something. If Katri wrote in her diary that Ariel’s her sister, I’ll go with that. And number two, yes, she did. Because Ariel had married her prince while Snow White’s prince, Prince Charming, had suddenly disappeared one day and never returned. No one knows why. Snow White was so heartbroken and jealous of Ariel’s happiness that she banished her – she only meant to move her to a different province, but her plans went awry. Now Katri, her father, and Snow White all want Ariel back, but the problem is, they don’t know where to find her. They think she might be in the human world, but if so, they can’t go and get her. Residents of Fairyland are too obvious in the human world, and plus, there are other physical complications of adjusting to a different world. That’s why we all went to Fairyland – they wanted to force us to find Ariel, but we escaped before they could make us do it.”

“So do you think they sent us the note on purpose, to take us back? No one else but us could figure out what the note meant,” Alalia said.

Pippin shook his head. “Nah, because how could they know we would find that specific shell?”

Jacob nodded. “Good point. It’s still a little weird, though.” He looked over at Esme. “Did you ind anything yet, Esme?”

“Actually, yes!” Esme smiled. “Here, Vivi, you can read it.”

Vivi cleared her throat and read…

Dad says portals to other worlds must be made with resources native to that world. For instance, if I wanted to make a portal to the human world, I would need wood, nails, and other human things to make it. So for Prince Charming’s portal to work, he has to take some ingredients from Fairyland to the human world and build it there. I don’t know why he thinks it’s worth the risk – what if he gets an ingredient wrong and gets stuck in the human world forever? I personally never liked Flynn Rider that much anyway, but I guess he and Charming were pretty close friends. Rapunzel just isn’t the same since he’s gone missing, and I’ll admit it’s quite heroic of Prince Charming to try to rescue her dear husband.

“Woah, now everything is starting to make sense,” Vivi said. “So Prince Charming must have been making a portal to get his friend back to Fairyland, but he messed up his recipe and the portal didn’t work.”

“GUYS! I have it!” Alalia shouted. “Why didn’t we think of this sooner: P. Charming is Prince Charming!”

Everyone blinked. Oh, duh.

Jacob got to his feet, rubbing his hands together. “Well, now that we’ve got all this figured out, let’s go make the portal and save everyone!”

Vivi looked at him scornfully. “You can’t just do that, Jacob. What about our parents? And how are we going to find the other notes? We don’t even know if there ARE other notes. We need to get prepared, first. We’ll need food, and water, and some way to make shelter, and-”

“That’s our girl,” grinned Pippin, poking Vivi. “Always prepared.” She glared at him.

Esme, who was still leafing through the diary pages, suddenly jumped up and shouted, “EUREKA!” Then she blushed and lowered her voice. “Oops. I mean, look what I found!” She had opened the journal to a page with a list of ingredients.

Prince Charming’s portal is coming along pretty well. He even told me what he has so far. (But it’s top secret, so don’t tell anyone, diary. Ha ha.)

  • Item One: Oak wood
  • Item Two: Generous amount of fairy dust
  • Item Three: Stepping stones
  • Item Four: ???
  • Item Five: ???
  • Item Six: ???
  • Item Seven: ???

I sure hope Prince Charming’s expedition goes well, because if he can’t find the right ingredients, he might never return.


Ooooohhhhh! 😀 And lastly but not leastly, here’s the revised plot summary, to aid you in your writing:

It all starts with a mysterious note tucked inside a seashell. What could it mean? Who could it be from? And could it be time to go back? Five friends, Pippin, Jacob, Vivi, Alalia, and Esme work together to solve the mystery, and come up with a surprising solution: What if Snow White’s prince, Prince Charming, was working on constructing a portal between the human and fairytale world, but he got stranded in the human world and couldn’t get back to Snow White? If the five friends could find the rest of the notes, perhaps they could build their own portal to bring Ariel back to Fairyland – and maybe even Prince Charming with her.

Thus begins the biggest adventure so far as the children track down pieces of Fairyland hidden in the human world. But unbeknownst to them, there is danger lurking in the shadows – banished convicts from Fairyland that will do almost anything to get their hands on those mysterious notes. If this is a fairy tale, where is the happily ever after?

Exciting? I think so! I cannot wait to see how the story turns out! If you have any questions about the story or the participant list or WordCrafters in general, please just drop me a comment.

Thank you all so much for participating, and have fun!


Introducing… WordCrafters 3!

WordCrafters 3 (1280x1280) (800x800)

*Dances around throwing confetti* YIPPEE IT’S HERE! Guys, I am super excited for this round of WordCrafters! It feels like forever since I started the last one. And I’m especially excited for this one because Josie and I have some special plans for WordCrafters 3. 😀 AHHH I can’t wait to tell you guys about them! 😀

But first…

What Is WordCrafters?

Basically, WordCrafters is a story-chain where you collaborate with other writers to create a unique book. At the kick-off of WordCrafters, my blogger friend Josie and I will start the story by writing the first chapter, and then you guys take it from there. Each participant picks up where the last left off and writes just one chapter, and then Josie and I will conclude the book. Chapter by chapter, writer by writer, we’ve written a whole story!

I created WordCrafters last year with the excellent help and advice of the lovely Josie (otherwise known as Été), and since then we have successfully completed two WordCrafters stories, here and here. You should definitely check them out – all of the participants did an AMAZING job! 😀

How to Enter

*IMPORTANT* Please finish reading this post before entering. 🙂

  • If you are 10-18 and have a parent’s permission, just enter by commenting on this post!
  • Also, before entering, please take time to consider not just whether you want to enter, but whether you will realistically be able to participate when your turn comes. We would absolutely love to have you, but please don’t just sign up thinking, “Huh, this might be fun,” but then decide you don’t feel like doing it after all when it comes to your turn. It not only complicates things for Josie and me, it’s also not very considerate of the other participants. Of course, this is just a writing challenge! It’s not going to be the end of the world if you can’t write your chapter, and no one’s going to be outraged or anything, but we would greatly appreciate if you at least make an honest effort to fulfill your commitment, as small as it is. 🙂 And if you really wanted to write your chapter but had something come up, we will be happy to rework your turn if possible. Thanks, guys! ♥

Rules for Content

  • PLEASE keep your writing squeaky clean. Especially because this challenge is for kids, please don’t use any inappropriate content, which includes bad language, extreme violence, etc. It’s perfectly all right to use fairytale magic (think Narnia and Cinderella) and even to kill a character (as long as it’s not a main character), but just don’t make it overly gruesome. If you have questions about what can and can’t be allowed, please just ask! We reserve the right to refuse or edit out any offensive content.

Guidelines for Writing Your Chapter

  • I will notify you when it’s your turn to write a chapter. Please try to respond as soon as possible so I know my notification went through. 🙂
  • Please try to complete your chapter within one week. I know this is a change from the previous WordCrafters, but Josie and I both though we should set some limit this time. Last WordCrafters took a looong time to complete, and it didn’t seem very considerate to the other people who were waiting for a chance to enter the next one. Plus, it works best if we can mostly finish up WordCrafters over the summer when everyone has more time to write. 😉
  • When your chapter is finished, post it on your blog and link back to this post. I’ll read your chapter and then add it to the WordCrafters 3 page up there at the top of my blog. (Or you can click here.)
  • After you submit your chapter, I will let the next participant know it’s their turn. And there we go! That’s the pattern until all of the participants have had a chance to write their chapter.

What If I Don’t Have a Blog?

If you want to enter this challenge but you don’t have a blog, that’s fine! Just comment below saying that you’d like to enter and you’re not a blogger. I’ll notify you of your turn by email, and you can send your chapter to Josie or me via our contact forms.

What Will the Story Be About?

Ooh, this is the fun part. 😀 I’ll give you guys more details and pictures of the characters on the starting day, but here are the basics:

Characters: OOH guess what? In this story, all of the main characters from the previous two WordCrafters are going to meet each other and go on an adventure together! In case you need a refresher, here are the characters:

  • Alalia: For Alalia, books are her life. Most of the time Alalia is quiet, but her mind is always observing things, imagining things. She is shy, stubborn, tender-hearted, creative, and loves reading and writing. Alalia is of average height and weight, with straight brown hair blue eyes, and olive skin. She is thirteen years old.
  • Jacob: Jacob is always up for an adventure. He loves any activity that gets your heart racing. Jacob is helpful, caring, and kind, especially to younger kids. Jacob is a bit over six feet tall, has messy black hair, dark brown eyes, and medium skin. He is sixteen years old.
  • Pippin: Pippin is always ready with a grin and a laugh. He is easy-going, funny, and loyal, but he sometimes unintentionally hurts people with his frank comments, and is always accidentally getting himself and others into trouble with his lighthearted pranks. Pippin is tall and lanky, with curly red hair; twinkling hazel eyes; and freckled skin. He is sixteen, almost seventeen years old.
  • Vivi: Vivi is always on the go. She is athletic, outgoing, and very smart, but sometimes her strong nature gets the better of her and she becomes bossy and overbearing. Vivi also has a short temper; she very rarely cries, but easily gets angry. Vivi is short and wiry, with shoulder-length, wavy blond hair; gray-blue eyes; and tanned skin. She is thirteen years old.
  • Esme: Esme is gentle soul. She is kind, tender, and affectionate, but also a bit fragile and proud of her beauty – she doesn’t like getting her hands dirty or her dress torn. Although she is easily frightened and often cries about small things, in true trials she is amazingly strong. Esme is small and slender, with long, straight black hair; dark brown eyes; and creamy skin. She is eleven years old.

Plot: This is another thing we’re doing a bit different this time. Josie and I are going to give you guys a bit more of an outline than we usually do because… well, I’ll talk about that at the end of the post. 😉 We’re still working out the details of the plot, but here’s a short synopsis, subject to change:

The five kids meet each other on a vacation and discover that they share a secret: they are the only humans to have ever traveled to the hidden world of Fairyland. One day they find a stack of envelopes in the mail, labeled “From Ariel. To Whom It May Concern.” Upon opening the letters, they find that the envelopes contain a series of mysteries, along with clues that just might lead them to the solutions. Is the sender of the letters really Snow White’s sister? Why did she disappear and where did she go? And who is that mysterious stranger that appears to be following them? The clues lead the five friends to a surprising solution… and into big trouble. If this is a fairytale, where’s the happy ending?

When Will WordCrafters 3 Start?

Josie and I will post the first chapter of WordCrafters 3 on June 15. That means you have about 20 days to sign up. O.o

One More Thing…

Okay, guys, I know this is getting rather long but I have one more really exciting thing to tell you! After this round of WordCrafters is completed, if all goes well we’re hoping to make all three WordCrafters so far into a book! That’s why Josie and I are giving you guys a bit more of a plot outline, because this round is going to be the last book in the “series” if you want to call it that. What do you guys think about self-publishing it? Would you be interested in helping us edit it?


AHHH I’M SO EXCITED! Are you? If you have any questions, please feel free to talk to Josie or me.

Thanks for reading, my friends! ♥




Phew. Guys. This is sooo amazing! I don’t know what else to say. Wheeeee!

Of course I’ll have to do something exciting for this, right?! Let me think… Ooh, maybe a giveaway! I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do yet, but trust me, I’ll do a celebratory post soon and tell you what I’ve decided then. Do you guys have any suggestions? It’s really hard to talk normally and not shout…

*Faints from excitement*

Maybe we’d better move on to the already planned part of the post or I’m going to explode.

Ahem. I’m participating in Grace’s lovely Think to Ink Writing Challenge! This is my first entry. Grace, I used all three prompts and included “pencil” in my story. 🙂 I bolded (is that even a word) the spots where I used the prompts.


“Mae, get up! It’s round-up day!” My little sister stage-whispered into my ear. I groaned and buried further under my covers.

“Go away, Fiona,” I muttered. Why couldn’t she just leave me in peace… *snore*

“AHHHH! FIONAAAAA!” I leaped out of bed and frantically shook off the freezing cold water. Now I was wide awake and not in a good mood.

Fiona giggled and gave me a wicked grin. “Shhh! Don’t wake up Petre,” she whispered loudly.

“Fiona!” I whirled around to give her a good tongue lashing, but stopped when I noticed the calendar hanging on the wall. Today was marked with a big red circle and a conglomeration of smiley faces. “WHAT?! It’s round-up day? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Fiona sighed and rolled her eyes.

I’d looked forward to round-up day all year. Petre had cried for days when he learned that at 4 years old he was still too young to come along, and Fiona was overjoyed to go on her first round-up trip as an early 10th birthday present.

While I’m introducing my siblings, I’d better introduce myself too. I’m Mae Lyra, and I’m 13 years old. Oh, and one other little thing you should know about me:

I’m a dust pixie.

Dozens of us, sometimes hundreds, live in every house. We live mainly under beds, sofas, and in the jillions of unnoticed crevices around your home. Dust pixies are good at many things, but my family carries on the tradition of one of the dust pixies’ most time-honored occupations: raising dust bunnies.

At the beginning of every spring we release our herds out into the wide world (a.k.a. our humans’ house) to feed upon dirt and grime and to grow bigger and fluffier each month. By wintertime the herds are majorly fluffy and ready to be sheared. There are always a few casualties (and once I saw the mother human wipe out my friend’s whole herd of dust bunnies in one fell swoop when she vacuumed under a bed), but for the most part it’s a profitable business. Dust bunny wool is highly valued in the dust pixie world. It can be spun into thread or yarn, woven to make traditional wool bed covers, and sewn to make the warmest, fluffiest coats and garments available.

Everything in our house is dusty – and that’s just the way we like it. It’s considered unhealthy to wash our natural dust off (that’s why I was so mad at Fiona for dumping water on me). Since we’re pixies, we obviously have wings, but in most other ways we’re like tiny versions of the humans we live with. We build homes and furniture (from the humans’ trash) and eat three meals a day (from the humans’ dropped crumbs). We have jobs, families, and friends. But even though we’re so similar, even though our very lives depend on them, dust pixies are mortally afraid of humans. Who wouldn’t be afraid of huge, lumbering giants that can crush your whole world beneath one foot?

Humans were our main concern as Fiona, my father, and I flew off through the dim light, leaving Mother to fix breakfast for Petre when he awoke. It wasn’t even 5:00 a.m. We still had plenty of time before the humans usually got up, but with humans you could never be sure of anything.

Our first stop was the sofa. Goodness, those dust bunnies had multiplied fast! We herded about 100 bunnies of all sizes into a makeshift corral made from broken popsicle sticks, pencil stubs, and Superglue. One little bunny escaped the herd and hopped off to explore.

“I’ll get it!” I yelled. The baby bunny twitched its dusty nose ferociously as if daring me to catch it, and so the chase began.

“Come back here you little fluffball!” I panted as I flew this way and that. The little rascal had scampered all the way into one of the humans’ bedrooms. Should I go in? The bunny was so close I could practically touch it. Surely I would get it this time! I flew softly over to the bunny, who padded over to the window sill and sat on its haunches, nose quivering, whiskers twitching.

The Dust Pixie.jpg

Slowly, gently, I held out my hand for the bunny to sniff, then grabbed it. It was so soft, like a stuffed animal! Petre would have loved it – but he would have had a coughing fit for sure. My brother was one of the very few dust pixies who were actually allergic to dust. Yeah, kind of unfortunate when dust is your life.

I cuddled the ball of fuzz close and prepared to fly back to the corral when I heard a rustling noise coming from the bed.

Oh no. Not now. Please don’t wake up now!

But she did. This human was a quiet, dark haired young woman of about twenty, but that was all I knew about her. We dust pixies didn’t stick around for such juicy facts – it was too dangerous.

The girl sighed and sat up in bed.

No! No, don’t get up!

She got up. And what’s more she came over to the windowsill. The bunny and I dropped low, using our dustiness as a natural camouflage. Unfortunately, the girl was a good housekeeper – the windowsill was spotless. She propped her elbows on the windowsill and stared out at the fading night sky. Perhaps I could have escaped had not the bunny chosen that moment to scramble out of my grasp. She looked down with a dreamy expression on her face when she heard the scuffle. The girl saw the “clump of dust,” and bent down, frowning, to flick it off. Her eyes widened when she saw that we were no mere clump of dust.

We both sat there, staring at each other in fear and surprise. She didn’t speak, she didn’t make a sound, but the wild look in her eyes told me exactly what she was thinking. Am I still dreaming? She bent down even closer and stared at me with huge blue-gray eyes. When she blinked, her eyelashes brushed my face.

“Please,” I whispered, “please don’t hurt me.”

When she heard my voice, the girl jumped back and clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Nope, she wasn’t dreaming. She stood there, breathing hard, then answered in a slow whisper.

“I would never hurt you… whatever you are. I’ll just close my eyes and you can go back to wherever you live – I won’t peek, I promise.” The girl squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

I was amazed. This human was actually kind! I whispered a heartfelt “Thank you,” caught up the baby dust bunny, and flew out of the room as fast as I could.

Boy, would I have a story to tell my father.


This was so much fun to write! I love creating alternate worlds like this. 🙂 I’m probably going to continue this story as TIWC progresses.

Oh, and I combined and edited this picture and this picture to make the photo of Mae and the dust bunny. I love how it turned out! The bunny in the actual photo looked like an real life dust bunny – kind of like Willow! XD

Did you like the “dust pixies”?




NOTICE: This is the last day to sign up for WordCrafters, guys! *Runs around with flashing lights and sirens* Okay, done with that. XD

Ahem. The. Last. CWWC. Challenge. Often I got pretty stressed out trying to finish my stories in time, but I loved how the prompts inspired me to write creatively. Sometimes I didn’t know how the story was going to turn out! Thank you so much for hosting CWWC, Loren! You did a great job. 😀 (By the way, I put several of my longer stories on a page called, uh…”Stories” up there with the rest of my pages below the header. I put each serial story on its own page so you can read it all at once instead of in little parts.)

Loren, I used the three prompts from this challenge.

I had to kind of rush for this, like usual, but I hope you enjoy it! 😀


 Rose the Runaway

Rose closed the book with a sigh. She scrambled to her feet on top of her bed, and held one arm above her head dramatically. She lifted her voice:

“Oh, that I should live to see thee so, dearest Evelyn. Why dost thou turn from me, thy life-long companion?” Rose shook her head at the thought of what poor Genevieve must have felt when she spoke that heart-rending passage. How could Evelyn have turned away from Genevieve? Especially when Genevieve had all of the qualities one could desire in a book heroine. She was brave, kind, and especially beautiful.

Rose wistfully recited another passage from the book: “Genevieve’s slender throat was milk-white, vying with the chain of pearls around it in purity and beauty. Her dreamy, violet eyes, so large and round, looked on everyone with gentleness. Her full, red lips spoke naught but love, and her slender, soft white fingers were filled with tenderness at every touch.”

Rose heaved another sigh from the depths of her nine-year-old soul. She gazed at herself dolefully in the mirror. No milk-white throat for Rose; hers was definitely brown. No dreamy, large violet eyes for Rose; only small gray slits peeping from under a heavy brow. No full red lips or soft fingers for Rose; her lips were pinched and thin like the rest of her, and her fingers were short and rough. Rose’s cherished dream was to grow up into a beautiful lady, as virtuous and charming as the best of heroines – like Genevieve.

Her second dream was to have a life worthy of a heroine. Rose figured that her life so far couldn’t have been more boring if it had tried. She hadn’t fallen off a cliff, graciously rescued her worst enemy, put out a fire, fallen down a well, or even broken an arm. The most exciting thing in Rose’s life had been when her family had moved across the street. And there was nothing heroic in moving if you didn’t have to change schools or move away from your friends.

But Rose was determined to do at least one exciting thing in life. She was going to run away from home. Once, when she was seven, Rose had tried to run away and promptly raced back to her house after meeting a large, growling dog; but this time Rose shouldered her pack resolutely and trotted off through the night. She had consulted several of her favorite books, finding out just how a heroine should go about running away.

“Our heroine, Rose, makes her escape,” Rose murmured into the night. “She sets off bravely, with only a few supplies in her knapsack. Will she be strong enough to survive?”

Rose tramped across two fields, crossed an empty highway, and headed up a hill.

“She has made it this far; our heroine will not give up now,” Rose spluttered between huffs and puffs. “Her legs ache with the strain as she climbs up the steep mountain. She shields her eyes and squints at the glaring snow topping the mountain. She gasps as her worn shoes hit the frozen powder. Can she make it?” It was the middle of summer, and Rose wouldn’t climb a mountain for her life, but that didn’t stop her imagination from embellishing her escape.

“Now the courageous Rose has reached the mountain top. She stands wearily atop it, taking in the view with her big, violet eyes.” Rose was getting tired now, but she quickly brightened up as her imagination concocted a picture in her mind. There was a picture of her in the newspaper. MISSING, it was captioned. Girl, nine years old. Light brown hair. Please call if you have any information of her whereabouts. Her father and mother knocked on every neighbor’s door, but always with the answer, “Sorry, I can’t help you.” This was something like it! Now she was really living like a story character.

By the time Rose crossed two more hills, she was exhausted. “Our heroine will just take a short rest before going on…” Rose yawned and cast her eyes about for a correct, bookish place to sleep for the night. There was now stack of hay, old barn, or abandoned house, but Rose decided a willow tree would do for shelter. She slipped off her knapsack and used it as a pillow.

“This is the life,” she murmured with contentment. Soon, however, Rose was not very content. The ground and a knapsack couldn’t hold a candle to her own bed at home. Every time she rolled over, she felt a new rock poke into her side. After an hour, Rose raised tragic eyes to the sky, and moaned.

She had to face the facts: she would never make a good runaway, not when she couldn’t sleep on soft grass for the night. Rose’s shoulders drooped as she picked up her knapsack and started for home. But though her eyes were downcast and she tried to look properly mournful, Rose was secretly glad she hadn’t made out to be a good runaway. Who would want to live on wild nuts and berries when you could have pancakes for breakfast any day?

Rose crossed a hill, then another, and another. And another. And another. Rose didn’t remember that there had been so many hills when she had crossed them the first time. Suddenly she stepped out into a clearing with a white farmhouse and a barn sitting in the moonlight. Rose was certain she hadn’t passed that spot before. A large lump rose in her throat.

She was lost.

At first Rose felt a thrill run through her. She couldn’t have planned it better herself. What was more romantic and story like than to run away from home and get lost? But after a few moments, she wasn’t so thrilled. She remembered that even though her life might be boring, it was wonderful. She loved her parents and her brother and sister, and she loved playing in her backyard with friends. She loved everything about her life, she realized, except that it was boring. What did boring matter now? All Rose wanted was to flop onto her bed and fall asleep, waking up to the smell of pancakes in the morning.

Rose shuddered, and felt tears burning in her eyes. She tramped slowly past the farmhouse and kept on going, who knows where. After a half hour of walking, she began to see some familiar landmarks. Soon Rose was racing down the lane that led to her house. Oh thank you, God, she prayed gratefully. Her father was walking up and down the road, shouting her name. Rose flew into his arms, knapsack and all.

“Oh Daddy! I’m so sorry! I won’t ever run away again! I don’t care if my life is boring. I love you, and Mommy, and Brent and Julia.” Rose broke off into sobs and let her father pat her back.

“It’s okay, Rose. It will be alright, my beautiful girl.”


Rose woke to the smell of sizzling pancakes. What a strange dream, she thought, and curled back in bed with her book.


See ya’!