Sunday, 25 September 2011

No Ordinary Interview

The Hogwarts crest : "Never Tickle a  Sleeping Dragon"
Hi! Ok, before I post my awesome story (if I say so myself ;P) I have some news from the inner depths of my brain. it is now offical - I'm addicted to Harry Potter! To those you who haven't seen the films, or read the books, Harry Potter is quite possibly the most amazing series of book/films on the planet!! It's just so awesome!! I've read the last three books in under a week and now, Harry Potter is under my skin. I can't stop thinking about it! If anyone has a cure, I would be grateful ;)

Anyway, Harry Potter is part of the inspiration for this story. Don't worry if you don't like HP - it has a minimal part in the story! I hope you enjoy the story! It's quite long, so be ready!

No Ordinary Interview

Julie sat nervously on the couch, clutching at her CV. Her normally straight blonde hair was ruffled and her red dress sat awkwardly on her hips, as if it didn’t fit her well. Her blue eyes, huge and wide, darted around the room, hovering for a few seconds over the door, and her small frame shook with the anticipation of what was ahead. Her very first job interview! It would have made anyone nervous, but Julie had much more at stake – she was asking for a job position in the government. It was lowly work, something to do with the Foreign Affairs secretary, but, even so, it was a big step in the world. Julie sat up straighter in her seat. She had always been a model student, getting the best results in exams, becoming a prefect, going into University well before her peers. She was a show-in for the job, and she knew it. Once she was in, she was in forever, moving slowly up the rungs of the government. This was her big break into the world, her chance to become a household name, her chance to be known in the world...

“Julie Yaxley?” Julie glanced up and immediately leapt to her feet.

“Th-that’s me,” she stuttered, smiling weakly at the frail looking woman that shouted her name.

The woman studied her for a moment and then said sharply, “Follow me.”  She turned on her heel and pushed open the door, not bothering to hold it open for her guest. Julie, surprised by the rudeness, hurried after her, emerging in a long hallway that stretched as far the eye could see. It was brightly lit and colourful, but at the same time dark and chilly. Julie kept her eyes pinned on the woman in front of her, on the pale blue of her dress and the tapping of her high heels.

The woman suddenly stopped and pointed at a door. “That’s you in there,” she said gruffly. Julie noticed that there was hair growing from her upper lip.  Ignoring it, Julie looked at the door. It was made of dark wood and the plaque on it was faded and dusty. She could just make out the words :

Anne Mairs
                                          Foreign Affairs          



“O-ok...” Julie muttered but the woman was already gone, scurrying down the hallway. Julie took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The inside of the room was panelled with wood and there was a large, black desk sitting by the miniscule window,  sandwiched between two black chairs. The desk was cluttered with bits of paper and pens and pencils, many of which lay on the floor in disarray.

“Hello! You must be Julie! I apologize for Miss Davidson...it’s nearing the end of her moon cycle and we all know what that means!” Julie started and blinked. There was a woman sitting behind the desk dressed in a navy business suit. Her wavy brown hair was pulled tightly into a bun and her nails were painted a shocking hot pink. Julie nodded dumbly and sat down in the other chair. Her head was reeling. That chair had been empty a few minutes before. How had the woman...?

“Well, I’m Anne Mairs, head of Foreign Affairs at the moment. And I take it you’re applying for the secretary position?”

Julie snapped out of her head and replied, “Yes, yes, that’s me.” She smiled and handed over her CV. “I’m sure you’ll find everything to your liking.”

Anne grabbed the CV and quickly rifled through it, pausing for no longer than a second on each page. When she had finished, she sat it down on her desk, just another bit of paper amongst millions.

“Aren’t you going to read that a bit more...thoroughly?” Julie asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice. Anne merely smiled and clasped her hands.

“No, dear, I think that will suffice.” She smiled again. “Ok, let’s gets started shall we!” She leaned forward and grasped a bit of paper and a pen. “Ok, what makes you think I should give you this job? What do you have to offer?”

Julie was ready for this and she confidently parroted the answer her and her mum had practiced. She paused for a few seconds, waiting patiently for Anne’s pen to stop scratching on the paper and then she leaned back slightly in her seat. She was still nervous but the butterflies in her stomach had flown away and she was positive that her answer was perfect. After all, her and her mum had practiced for months. When she glanced up, however, Anne looked unimpressed. Her face was drawn, the smile wiped clean from her mouth. She sighed and sat her pen down on the table.

“Ok, Julie...I’m not going to lie, that was a fake answer and you know it. You don’t mean any of those things – you just want to get a job in the government to show that you’re capable of doing so.” She gently placed her hand on Julie’s wrist, who was staring at her. How could she, this strange woman, know what she wanted? 

Anne continued, “It’s ok. I understand.” She suddenly picked the pen back up and leaned back in her seat. 
“Anyway, on with the show! Second Question –How do you feel about working with vampires?”

Julie almost fell of her seat. “V-vamp-vampires?” she spluttered. Anne beamed at her.

“Yes, vampires! Quite a lively bunch – they’re not the type to turn down a good party! They make up most of the Romanian and Czech Republican governments, you know. You wouldn’t have guessed – they look normal and are very well behaved. It’s only when they get hungry that they...you know...” She mined biting and then said cheerfully, “Yes, we need quite a few people to understand them, their English is terrible, you see. This job requires a fair amount of skill with vampires. So, what is your answer?”

Julie stared at her. “Are you joking? Are you kidding me on?”

“No, no, not at all!” Anne lowered her voice. “I can see that you’re in shock, it’s not much of a surprise really - not many people know about the vampires. Do you want me to move onto the next question?” Julie nodded and closed her eyes. Vampires? Was she serious? Julie massaged her head and took a deep breath before opening her eyes.

“Ok,” she said shakily. “I’m ready.”

“Ok then. How do you feel about werewolves?”

Julie nearly screamed.  Werewolves, vampires? What the hell was this woman on? “Look,” she said angrily.“I don’t care about vampires or unicorns or whatever you’re on about – if you’re having a laugh then you aren't very funny!”

Anne just smiled and said dreamily, “Werewolves and vampires, dear – unicorns are another matter all together! We leave them to the U.N. Now, werewolves. I’m sure you have already realised that we have one on staff today but-”

“What?” Julie screamed.

“Miss Davidson, of course! The woman that brought you to my office!” She laughed. “What did you think I meant when I said ‘moon cycle’!” Anne burst into to peals of laughter and started banging her fist on the desk.

This was too much for Julie. “That’s it!” she cried. “I’m leaving!”  She grabbed her CV off the desk and marched dramatically to the door. Anne didn’t appear to hear her; she was still laughing like a lunatic. Julie pushed the door open and with one last glower, she stormed off down the hall.

By the time Anne had stopped laughing, Julie was long gone. Anne was slightly disappointed – she seemed like quite a good candidate. Sighing, she yelled out into the hall. “Miss Davidson, can you get me the next job applicant please? Thanks!” She heard the gentle patter of the werewolf’s shoes disappearing down the hall into the office. Anne sighed again. Julie was the fifth applicant that had stormed out – the other two had cried and had to be taken away by their significant other, which was a shame, as they’d all been very good up until the vampire question. Suddenly, she could hear Miss Davidson’s voice saying “That’s you in there.” There was a small murmur and the door opened. 

“Hello, you must be Emily. I’m Anne Mairs. Will you take a seat?”

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Summer Bliss :)

Hi :) Wow it's been a long time since I spoke to you guys. Or, at least, that's what it seems like :P Anyways, this is a story I wrote about a month ago for a site called Write and Share. They set up a challenge to write a story with only 500 words entitled Summer Bliss. Compared to everyone else, my story was rubbish but I'm quite proud of it none the less :D I hope you like it!

Summer Bliss

Summer bliss. That’s what the brochure had called it, when he was booking the hotel. “A heavenly paradise of serene calm – your favourite holiday destination”, it had promised. But as Mark sat on the sun lounger in front of the pool, he could see otherwise. The place was a dump. The floor was dotted with lumps of chewing gum, and the pool had a large brown lump in the centre of it. The reception was under staffed and the manager had stared at him with the upper-class snobbery more commonly expected of a Duke, instead of a middle-aged, balding, fat man. The whole place stank of sweat and kids ran around the hotel on a free leash, playing noisily and just generally making a mess of the place. Even the sun seemed to shy away, hiding behind the clouds that had covered the sky like a blanket ever since he had arrived a few hours ago. Mark felt under the lounger for his Coke. He found it and, brushing the dirt off the bottom, took a long drink. It was lukewarm. Mark sighed and put it back under his seat. He would have blamed the sun, but he had only come outside a few minutes ago. The mini-fridge must be broken. He made a mental note to report it to the cleaners when they cleaned his room tomorrow. Not that they would understand a word he said. Mark sighed and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander onto the sunny beaches of the Caribbean or Hawaii.

He was sipping pineapple juice from a coconut, when he suddenly lurched forward. Mark opened his eyes and held onto side of lounger, which had juddered to a stop. Mark frowned and glanced under the seat. The parasol had fallen down, making his Coke spill. The brown liquid was seeping into the pages of his book. He hurriedly grabbed it, murmuring “Shit, shit, shit...” under his breath. The book had been lent to him by a friend. He scrambled to clean up the mess, vaguely aware of someone staring at him, but he couldn’t care less. It was only when he heard a muttered sentence, that he turned round. “What?” he roared, his face the colour of beetroot. He blinked, and found himself staring into the eyes of a beautiful young woman in a flowery bikini. She had almond eyes and golden skin. Her hair brushed his shoulder and he felt himself blush.

The woman smiled and said politely, “Hi, I’m on the lounger next to you...I was wondering if you wanted any help?” Mark gaped and nodded dumbly. The woman smiled and wandered off. Mark stared at her for minute, before slowly lying down. His head struggled to get round what she had said. He decided it didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things. A gorgeous girl was lying on the bed next to him! He grinned and absentmindedly smoothed back his hair. Things were finally beginning to look up.

Sorry, it's quite short and it''s not new but I've been working really hard on my book! I'm at 15513 words just now - quite a lot me thinks :P See ya later!

Thursday, 15 September 2011

I finally understand!! :O

Hi! This is going to be a pretty short post but I think a few people (including me) will benefit from it!

Right, so a couple of days ago, I started talking to Caroline :) She's an American blogger (Caroline's Clever Concepts - check it out!) and she emailed my to ask if we could chat about blogging and stuff. I agreed and a few quick emails later, we were on the subject of school. She told me she was in the 8th grade and asked me what grade I was in. I looked a little like this -


I asked her about the grades and she was lovely and sent me a list of all the ages and grades and schools and stuff!!!! Thank you Caroline!!!! XD This is the list here - feel free to study it if you're Scottish ;)

Pre-School is 3-5
Elementary:
Kindergarden 5-6
1st grade 6-7
2nd grade 7-8
3rd grade 8-9
4th grade 9-10
5th grade 10-11
Middle school:
6th grade 11-12
7th grade 12-13
8th grade 13-14 (my grade if I was American)
High school:
9th 14-15
10th 15-16
11th 16-17
12th 17-18

Once again, thank you so much Caroline!!

In other news, 5 peeps have voted and they have decided that I should change my blog name! I have a few ideas but any more suggestions would be highly appreciated! :D

Friday, 9 September 2011

Vera and the Matchmaker

Hiya my lovely blog buddies! Soz I've not been posting but I've had the cold. *sniffle* But I'm all better now (YEY!!) so I'll be able to give you an extra amazing story...
But first, I would like to say thank you to everyone who follows me! I've finally reached 1000 views! To loads of  bloggers out there, this isn't much of an achievement, but to someone with only 12 followers this is astounding! Thank you! I'm looking forward to reaching 2000 views already, so spread the love and creativity! Tell your friends! :D
Next thing - should I rename my blog? I have a few ideas but they're not very good. Leave your suggestions in the the comments!
So, on to the story. This was written on the spot, right here, right now. It's really random because I used something called a Fiction Square. Basically, there's a list of characters, traits, locations, conflicts and objects. You roll the dice for each column and see what you get! I got...


A cheerfully overweight grandmother
A magical matchmaker
A dog
Loneliness
Stately Home


Hopefully, this won't be too much of a fail (it's not very good :/) but still, please comment to tell me what you think! :D


Ding Dong! Vera sighed and slowly hauled herself up out of her armchair. Her long flowing dress bulged over her gigantic form and her rolls of fat wobbled as she walked over the linoleum floor. Already tiny beads of sweat were breaking out on her forehead. Ding Dong! Ding Dong! "I'm coming!" she shouted, her voice creaking with the strain of old age. She was in her 70s - barely a spring chicken - and slightly obese. Vera didn't mind. She had had a lovely life, 3 children, 5 grandchildren and a successful cooking career.  Her only regret was never marrying. Vera grasped the door handle and yanked it open. The door swung round and Vera found herself staring at a beautiful young woman wearing a pair of stripy jeggings and roller-skates.

"Hi," she said, grinning from ear to ear, her long blonde hair sweeping over her face. "Can I come in?" Vera opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say a word, the woman was inside, a whirlwind of bubbly energy and activity. Vera slowly closed the door, wary, and plodded back into the living room. The woman was sitting in her armchair, a cup of tea in her hands. "Hi!" she said cheerily. "I made this for you. Thought you might be thirsty." The woman handed over the cup of tea and slumped back into the chair, an expression of boredom pouring over her face. She sat there for a moment, before suddenly looking up and grinning at a bewildered Vera. "Go on, sit down. It's your house!" Vera obliged and squeezed herself into another seat, completely dazed.

"Wh- What did you say your name was?" Vera asked. her voice sounded posh  compared to the woman's - the by product of being raised by a Duke. She had inherited his manor but she didn't really like it. No, she preferred a cosy cottage to a stately home like this one.

The woman grinned again and whipped out a business card. Vera picked it from the woman's fingers and began to read -

Ellie Baschell
Matchmaker 
800-76555-4333

Vera slowly sat the card down onto the table before glancing up. "Look, I'm sorry, but I didn't call you and I do not need a matchmaker. Thanks for the tea, but could you leave?" Vera waited for a sincere apology or even a slight nod. The woman just sat, frozen in her seat, a smile stretched across her lips.

"You didn't call me," she said, a giggle rising up in her throat. "But I know that you want me. You were thinking about how lonely you were and how you wanted to marry before you die and then BAM I arrive!" The woman clapped her hands with a flourish and wiggled her fingers. "So, what we looking for? A tall blonde? Strong, dark stranger? Or something in between?" Ellie wiggled her eyebrows and laughed at Vera’s expression.

Vera sat in the chair her mouth open and her hands shaking slightly. “You can read minds?” she asked, her blue wrinkled eyes bulbous saucers in her head.

“Of course...well, not exactly. I can hear people say key words, like love, lonely, marry etcetera and then I have to filter through previous thoughts to see whether they really need help or not and then...well, then I turn up.” Ellie shrugged and turned back to Vera. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to chat. Let’s get down to business. Is there a certain type of man you want?”

Vera nodded dumbly and opened her mouth. No words came out and Ellie looked at her expectantly. “Well? What do you want? You can have any man you want, bar celebrity look-alikes or dead people. I can make you a man on the spot, if you’d like but it comes with a price. Or,” she said, lowering her voice to whisper, I can turn something you love into a man...like a laptop or goldfish.” Ellie straightened up and smiled cheekily. “But that’s only for special customers!” She giggled and relaxed back into the seat.

Vera stared at her, unable to believe what she was hearing. Turning a laptop into a man?  It was silly, ridiculous. The woman was making a fool of her, making a fool out of an old lonely woman. Vera slammed the cup down on the table and opened her mouth to shout at Ellie, to threaten her with the police. Then, she stopped. It made sense...sort of, anyway. The cup of tea appearing from nowhere, the mind-reading. Vera felt her mind slipping – maybe this was her way to happiness.

“Say I believe you. Could you turn this mug into a man?”

Ellie beamed and flicked her wrist. The mug began to jerk and spasm in Vera’s hand, its enamel surface growing and splintering. Vera dropped the mug and surprise and with a short, sharp yelp, a man staggered to his feet. He was fat and greasy, his thick brown hair slicked back with what looked like coffee. His hand was stuck on his hip. He was wearing an orange suit, exactly the same shade as the mug. He looked at Vera for a minute and grunted before falling to the floor and shrinking back into the mug.

Vera stared at Ellie in disbelief. She was sitting in the armchair, deep in thought. Suddenly, she turned to Vera. “Right...ok...maybe that wasn’t the best example. It works best if it’s something you love and cherish. That mug wasn’t so much as a soul mate as a...” she stumbled over the right word, “an accessory.” Ellie smiled again and said, “Is there anything in this house, that you love? Anything at all?”

Vera thought for a second and nodded. “My dog, Samson. He’s out back.” Vera slowly stood up but Ellie waved her down. “I’ll get him.” She whistled a long low note and Samson ran through his tail wagging like crazy. He was a whippet, long and thin, with silvery-grey hair and brown eyes. Ellie smiled at him and he jumped into her lap, barking and yelping in delight. Ellie beamed and looked at Vera. “Do you want me to change him?”  Vera slowly nodded and then with a motion of Ellie’s wrist Samson was gone.

A second later, Vera opened her eyes. She wasn’t aware that she had closed them but apparently she had. The thin layer of blackness slowly lifted and Vera sound herself staring into the eyes of a stranger.

He was tall and slim, with tiny liver spots and wrinkles dotting his hands. Wispy gray hair poked out of his head and his feet were clawed with long nails. He had beautiful brown eyes and for a moment Vera could see the echo of her dog, barking and chasing its tail in excitement.

“Samson?” Vera choked out. The man nodded and smiled shyly, wringing his hands. “Samson!” Vera said. She forced herself out of her chair and walked over to him. His hands carefully wrapped around her fingers and they stood in a silent embrace.

“Thank you,” Vera whispered, but she needn’t had bothered – Ellie had already gone, off to save another spinster..

Thursday, 1 September 2011

Hi! OK, this is big. I mean really big. As in BIG big. I've been meaning to announce this for ages but I've never really had the guts. OK...here it goes....

A few of my faithful followers might remember my story Lexie - you can find it in the "Book Reviews and Stories" tab if you haven't read it.  Basically, it's about a genetically modified teenager who can turn into a wolf and how she breaks out of prison and stuff. Well, a couple of months ago I started writing it into a book! It's called Wolfbane and it's basically the same idea as Lexie, except it continues past where she breaks out :D I'm on Chapter 7 at the mo, with 14151 words! I'm really looking forward to publishing it (hopefully!) and I hope that you guys will support me throughout. I'll keep you updated with the progress!

I wrote this story earlier this afternoon as an English descriptive essay (No copying!!) but I thought that it was worthy for my blog as well. I just edited it to my English teachers instructions. I hope you enjoy it!

BATTLEFIELD – CAN YOU SURVIVE?


You’re sitting in the trench, staring at your rough, chapped hands. Your gun rests on your lap, the metal curves of its barrel pressing into your thigh. Grime coats your clothes and helmet, mud mixed with the blood and sweat of your fellow soldiers. A large clump of dirt rests in your pocket, slowly staining the picture of your wife and children a dark brown. The trench is filled with people screaming and yelping and the air around is filled with the deafening sound of screeching shells. You know what’s coming next. Your hands tighten around your gun and you clench your jaw. The ground gives an almighty shake and then stops. You relax and breathe deeply through your nose.

To your left, Davey mimics you. He’s tall and strong with a flat nose and steely grey eyes. Everyone in the squad thought he would last the longest, but the constant battering mashed his brains. He sits and stares, whispering nursery rhymes now, rocking back and forth on his heels. You turn around and yawning, peer at the other soldiers in the trench. The men’s muddy-green uniform blends effortlessly into the trench walls and you’re tired eyes take a moment to pick them out. You can name all of the soldiers but a few – Smith, Thompson, White, Walker, Shake, Taylor, Clarke and Flash. They’re deadly silent, their mouths firmly shut with fear and exhaustion. You stretch your neck further out and you notice the Captain screaming orders at them. You immediately straighten up and grasp your gun. His voice echoes through the trench.

“Men, we need to attack. Now....Get up!” The soldiers all wearily stand up, their eyes red and bloodshot with lack of sleep. Davey stays on the ground, oblivious to everything around him. The soldiers slowly start to file out of the trench. Their eyes are lighting up like beacons in a storm – adrenaline is starting to course through their bodies. It’s happening to you to. Suddenly, everything becomes clearer; the dull grey of the sky brightens and the trenches seem less small and dirty and more cosy.  Your hands clench and unclench, wrapping around your gun. Your heart is beating ten times faster than it should and you suddenly feel anger coursing through your veins. You glance up and quickly move forward through the trench, catching up with the other men. The squad is bending low now, their knees almost brushing the dirt. You change stance, copying them. You’re the youngest in the squad, young enough to be some of the men’s sons. It doesn’t matter – the war is beginning to get desperate and the army need all the men they can get.

You’re approaching the end of the trench, the point nearest to the Germans. The Captain shouts instructions, but you ignore him. You know the drill already – run and shoot and most importantly, don’t get killed. You hear the patter of footsteps as your friends sprint onto the battlefield and without a moment’s hesitation you run after them.

The first thing you notice is the symphony of noise that erupts all around you. Rapid gunfire fills your ears, mixed with the primitive battle cries from both sides. Dirty crimson marks litter the ground, remnants of an earlier battle.  Already the smell of blood and vomit is filling your nostrils, a pungent aroma that makes you want to be sick. You run and dodge the bullets and shells, holding your gun to your chest until you can find cover. You hear Flash shouting through the bedlam and then, you watch a figure fall, red mist spilling onto the ground. You tear your eyes away from the corpse and keep running. You can just make out Taylor in front of you, kneeling on one knee and shooting at the Germans. Without any cover, he falls in an instant. You glance at him and sigh quietly with relief. The bullet only hit his leg – he isn’t going to die.  You hurriedly squat next to him and peel the ammo away from his chest. He isn’t going to use it, not until his leg heals. Taylor whimpers and you touch his chest with your finger, silently apologising for his pain. He gives a brief nod and turns away, silently searching the distance for a medic. You turn away from him and standing up, run towards the danger.

You are running faster and faster, dodging the bullets and screaming men that lie all around you. White and Shake are in front of you; Clarke behind you. Your sharp eyes spot a worn out metal barrel ahead and you sprint towards it. It’s not a prime position, but it’ll do. You crouch behind it and raise your gun. Your bent legs act like a spring and you jump up, firing at the Germans. One by one, you watch as the shadowy figures fall in front of you, pierced by bullets. Shrapnel from the shells ricochets off the barrel, making it shake and quiver. You duck down again and watch in horror as flames engulf White. He was standing to your left, shooting from behind a cloud of smoke. He didn’t hear the familiar whistle of the shell as it flew through the air, a deadly bird. He didn’t see it swoop and glide towards the cold, hard earth. Consumed by a morbid curiosity, you watch as he burns. Vomit rises in your throat, a wave of horrific nausea as you watch his flesh blacken and peel away from the bone. You can’t stop staring. When you finally pull your eyes away, it’s too late. A German soldier is running towards you, his gun pointed at your chest. Beads of sweat burst onto your forehead as you fumble with your gun, it’s jammed, it won’t fire...

The German hovers over you, a malicious smile plastered onto his face. His ice-blue eyes mock you as he slowly presses the gun to your head. He mouths something, but you don’t hear, all you see is his finger on the trigger, teasing it backwards, further and further back until finally, the barrel clicks. BAM!

GAME OVER. TRY AGAIN?


I'll see you guys later :P Remember to comment!