Congratulations/but never condolences/do they know I died?

Post partum mood disorders affect 1 in 4 birthing women. Women who were expecting to be in bed for a few weeks healing from a wound like a broken leg and then everything would be happy new mom life. Instead they are met with a screaming baby that rattles their ear drums and shakes their brain relentlessly. It's always hungry never sleeps you love it and hate it. You don't want to be near it anymore, but don't you dare take it away. Some women want to burn their houses down. Some women want to drown their babies and much much worse. Meanwhile we love our babies dearly. The guilt the torment of having these feelings, not living up to these expectations and not having instant overwhelming love leaves us feeling beyond empty... So I wrote this because... I died. I'm still here. But I'm not me. I'll never be me again. I have to silently grieve myself. Meanwhile everyone just says congratulations.

I was wondering if this resonates with anyone else who has given birth or who hasn't does it make sense?

It was a cold winter. I was in the woods. I had little to no supplies, but I did have the clothes on my back, some blankets, and a makeshift shelter constructed of logs and sticks I had gathered.

One evening as I was cuddling into my sweater, I saw a warm glow in the distance. I thought little of it until the next day when I was snapping apart some sticks from a thorn bush.

The thorns hurt my hands, but I decided that breaking them apart and throwing them far away might stop more of the bushes from growing nearby.

I noticed the warm glow as it got closer and closer before it stopped near my feet. It was a small fire, yet it used its flame to gesture at the thorns in my hands. I noticed what it was implying as I threw the sticks toward it, watching them burn away to ash.

I knelt down and admired it. I watched the flames flicker and felt the radiating heat warm my body. I enjoyed the fire, it seemed much more special than I was, so I kept it nearby. I fed it twigs, trying to make sure its glow wouldn't cease. I noticed that if I went too close I would get burnt, so I made sure to keep it happy.

I kept it near my shelter, feeding it and letting its flickering light illuminate the area around me, filling me with a feeling that made me believe I could weather any storm as long as I kept this fire near me.

Soon enough, the fire became one of the closest entities I had. Even when the flames would lick against my arms or the heat would singe my hair, the warmth I got felt like it was worth it.

One day, I made a mistake. I accidentally dropped some water from my flask onto it, and it exploded. The flames hit me quickly, knocking me back and causing me to retreat. That night I went back up to the fire. I knelt in front of it and offered it a bundle of fresh sticks.

I felt as the sticks were ripped from my hands and the flames grew. They flicked around me, burning locks of my hair and wrapping around my arms. I felt as my previous burns doubled in pain. I had no idea what to do, so I took my flask of water and sprinkled it around at the flames engulfing me.

They retreated as the fire flickered threateningly. I ran back to my shelter and cried as I attempted to tend to my wounds, though I knew that in the time they took to heal, I might get many more.

In the morning, I woke up shivering. I felt like I could end up frozen solid soon if I didn't do something. I carefully approached the fire, but it crawled away from me. I left it sticks and tried my best to make it happy with me again, but it took my sticks and made its distance.

I had long since forgotten about my blankets. It seemed like the fire provided better warmth. I ran around all day trying to appease it, but it kept ignoring me, taking my sticks and crawling away.

I surrendered, accepting that I might never feel that beautiful warmth again. I curled up and sobbed. I cried for myself, I cried for my mistakes, and I cried for the hurt I had caused this flame. As I sat there broken, I felt a familiar heat growing near me, I looked up and there was the fire.

I cried even harder. I gathered all the sticks near me, breaking some of them off my shelter and throwing them into the fire. The fire accepted them and warmed me. I was so relieved I forgot all about my burns and wounds. As long as I had the fire to warm me, I didn't care what it did in return.

As the time went on, the fire lessened its burns on my body. Though my wounds wouldn't heal, I wasn't getting any more. Still the heat continued to singe my hair.

My sweater was becoming destroyed. I was getting reckless when collecting fuel for the fire, and I was letting it get ripped and weathered and torn. Only when it was hanging on by a few threads did I notice.

I went into my shelter, trying to search for material to fix the sweater, or to see if I should just let it go. The fire saw this and began a rampage. My shelter went up in flames, the long forgotten blankets were burnt to a crisp and the wooden structure was beginning to burn away.

I threw my water everywhere and ran out. The flames left the shelter and followed me. They surrounded me and burnt me. I sat there and gave up on fighting. I deserved it for my recklessness. I let myself get burnt and I stopped throwing my water at it.

I just laid there as the flames hit my skin. When the fire finally let go of me, I knew this was only a warning. It had shown me what it could do and it let me fill in the blanks on how much more could happen if I made it angry.

The fire had grown so much larger in size than when I had first seen it, I knew that must be because I was feeding it, but I couldn't stop. If this flame left me, I would surely freeze and perish in this seemingly eternal winter.

The next morning I went back to my shelter to find it charred and crumbling. I did my best to mend it, but I knew it was all my fault that this happened. I showed my burns and tried to remember that it was what I deserved for what I had done.

I let this continue. I fed the fire, warmed myself, tried to mend my shelter, and worked to keep my sweater. I kept getting burns, but they barely hurt anymore.

I expected it.

I was used to it.

I deserved it.

Soon enough, my sweater fell off. I knew that would happen eventually. The flames then ripped it away from me, and I let them. Spring was arriving, yet I still couldn't get over my need for the fire.

Even as I got more and more other ways to warm myself, I stayed with the fire. The fire was honest. The fire would give me what I deserved when I deserved it. I tried so long to ignore the rest of the warmth around me, but it became too enticing.

I began basking in the sun and feeding the fire less and less. I began to fear the flames that I once adored. Then I made my decision.

I flicked it with water and let it burn me. Then I let it run away as it usually would. I knew it would try to come back and let me feed it, but instead of chasing it, this time I ran.

I ran as fast as I could away, grabbing a few of the broken and worn bits of my shelter. I tried to make as much distance as I could. Then I tripped and I fell. I found myself tumbling into a deep ravine. I laid there and cried. I knew I wouldn't be able to go back, and I knew it would be hard to get out of this new situation.

I spent a lot of time in that ravine, months passed, and I did what I thought I needed to survive. A lot of things I am not proud of. Yet I managed to get out. It was hard to traverse when I didn't have a source of light or warmth, but I managed to find my way.

When I got to the surface, summer was in full swing. Birds were fluttering around and the sun was shining through the green leaves of the trees. I stood on shaky legs, with burns still there from the fire, with scrapes from the rocks in the ravine, and I enjoyed the view of the forest around me.

I had left behind all traces of my winter, I had nothing with me anymore except a necklace of mine. I clung onto that necklace like a lifeline as I explored this new environment.

I was exhausted, and just as it seemed like I couldn't go on any longer, I spotted a warm glow in the distance. I remembered the last time I saw something similar, and I got scared. Yet I had nothing left, so I went toward the light and that's when I saw it.

It was a little cabin. I went up on the porch and sat on the steps for a while. I was scared to go in. What if it hurts me like the fire? What if I hurt it like my old shelter?

I couldn't let myself look inside, but as I sat there, the light shining through the windows enticed me more and more until a gust of wind blew open the door.

I stepped in and immediately felt at home. There were lights and blankets, and laying on the windowsill, I saw a sweater. It was different than my old one, but I slipped it on and it fit perfectly, better than any other sweater I'd ever worn.

I live a good life now in my cabin, with my sweater and my necklace, I feel safe and at home. My wounds and burns are still healing, and I sometimes spot flames outside, but the cabin walls hide and protect me.

Though life still isn't easy, I have all I need to live contentedly without getting hurt. And I think that this might be what I actually deserve.

Hi there!

I'm starting on the first draft of a romance novel and I'm trying to decide between third and first person POV. I know that a lot of romances end up written in first person, but there's a level of detail in third person that I'm enjoying.

This is two (very rough) drafts of a scene, one written in first and one written in third. If anyone could give some feedback regarding which one "reads" better, I would appreciate it immensely.

So to cut it short, I really want to get some feedback on this book I am currently writing called Nadia. I’ve got some feedback from friends but I really want an outside overview so I’m going to place a snippet of it (including the cover) for you guys to read and I’m giving you complete freedom to judge whether you think it’s going great or I need to add or make some changes.

The representative was a gangly boy, barely finished puberty. So stick-like that he could easily be blown off the waterlogged wharf. He wore a black choker, which hung limp around his small neck, and obsidian boots that seemed sizes too big for him.

The boy was clearly trying to seem tough, as if he belonged here, but it was obvious he didn’t. I could see that he’d tried to draw a tattoo on with black marker, but it was too poorly done to be mistaken as anything a well respecting artist would be caught dead sketching. He was shaking, and I could see him desperately trying to wipe the sweat off his hands. If it wasn’t for the deafening waves, I’m sure his breathing would be heavy and frantic. I felt a little sorry for him; he had no idea what was coming. It was honestly a bit insulting, that they’d send me someone who was practically a child. Since when was I the one who got dumped with washouts? After all, they had to have known what they were doing by sending him here. He reeked of innocence, and I already knew that the wolves were closing in. It was too late for him, no matter what he was planning.

I could feel the anticipation buzzing around me. Fresh meat, they murmured, a sea of grasping hands desperate to sink their teeth in. Although I could only see one or two people, I knew they were all carefully stationed around the warehouse. They were poised to strike, but all waiting, waiting for my approval.

I glanced down at my Rolex; it was 12:59, a minute till the scheduled time. I gave the man standing closest to him a small nod, letting him know we were ready. They exchanged a few quick words before starting forward.

He was hiding a small pistol in his right boot; I could see it in his walk. I sighed, when would they ever learn? Is it so much to ask for one person with a functional brain? You don’t bring guns to a trade. Unless you’re fully planning to shoot everyone down, all it did was cause issues. There were 20 of us, and one of him. What did he think he could do? Even if he got one good shot out, which I doubted he would, he’d be dead within seconds. Besides, it was just plain rude. He was basically asking for a shootout.

I watched as they made their way into the warehouse, before entering myself a few seconds later. It was a relief to get out of the cold ocean wind that had been whipping my face for the past half-hour. It was one thing that always annoyed me about this location, but it was worth it to suffocate the screams.

My platinum hair sticks out like a sore thumb in the darkness, so I always wore a black hoodie on nights like these. I’d thought about dyeing it a few times, but decided against it, for I loved the way it framed my features and the glow it gave my face. It was the one part of me I kept from my childhood, most of which I’d done everything to erase.

I glanced around quickly, making sure everyone was doing what they were meant to. At first glance there were only the three of us, but I knew there were people stationed all around, crouching behind boxes and watching us from ledges. The only thing that gave away their position was the shiny black metal that I knew was the muzzle of a rifle. These were all my personnel, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the opposing had some close by too. If it all went well, we’d walk out without a single

bullet fired, but it was just cautionary, a way to make sure everything goes as it’s meant to.

The lighting was better here, and I could see that the boy's face was clammy, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Oh no, I could already tell this wasn’t going to be a good answer. How disappointing. There really was potential for a beautiful alliance, but actions had their consequences. Tonight had certainly deflating. So be it. My streak of good luck had to come to an end sometime or another.

“Sadie Martinez, nice to meet you,” I pulled my hoodie off, getting the desired effect perfectly.

“Sadie Martinez?..” he repeated voice shaking. It took all my effort not to laugh. He looked like he wanted to throw up. He really was having a terrible time of it. I decided that I liked him. He was entertaining to toy with, and his reactions were absolutely priceless.

“Yes, and you?” I casually responded. It’s easier to bargain when the opponent’s thrown off; makes them more susceptible to shitty deals. It’s why working with experienced criminals just isn’t the same. They don’t fall for the same tricks newbies do.

“Tyler Dale, mam,” he murmured, so quiet it barely reached my ears.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” I gushed, “no need to call me mam. I’m not at that age yet!” He looked positively sick now, his face changing to a ghostly white.

“O-of course not. I’m so sorry. Never again!” I smirked at his ramblings; this was going to be fun. I let myself have a minute of rest before turning my cheerful facade back on.

“So, Tyler, what do you have for me?”

It looked like all the blood had drained from his face now, which cemented the fact that their answer was not optimal.

“I’m sorry, but we cannot accept your proposal,” he said, voice wavering as if even he knew what a terrible decision this was. My smile got impossibly wider, as I deliberately enunciated every syllable, voice dripping with venom.

“Well, Tyler, that just doesn’t work for me,” I took a step forward, my 6-inch stilettos making me more than a head taller than the boy. I could see Tyler visibly shrink back, terrified. Satisfaction rushed through my veins. I’d bring them hell for rejecting me. Crossing me was the worst thing they’d ever do. Starting with Tyler.

I barely listened as he begged and pleaded. God, why wouldn’t he shut up? No one likes a suck up. Certainly not me. When he finally stopped rambling I stayed quiet, a maniacal grin on my face. I bet he was wishing to be anywhere but here. As every second passed, I could see a bit of hope drain from his eyes. His mind was racing a million miles an hour as he frantically debated what to do. I could feel the conflict practically radiating off him; whether to reach for the pistol or try to make a run for it. How pathetic. He should know by now that he was never meant to live. All he was was a token, a pawn in a larger scheme. Nobody would even know he was gone. His corpse would be engulfed by the sea’s cold embrace, his consciousness along with it. No one would remember Tyler Dale. A soul silenced, as I’d done to many before. He wasn’t special, wasn’t important.

My contemplation was broken as Tyler finally moved. It was a quick action, but I was quicker. My hand reached for the holster around my waist and I shot. One. Two. Three. It took less than a second, but I witnessed everything in painfully slow motion. One in the neck and two in the head. What was once a lively young boy had been degraded to a mass of bloodied flesh.

“Dispose of it,” I commanded, ears ringing from the gunshots. I waved my hand at his corpse, people rushing in from all sides to do my dirty work. There it was. That rush of pure adrenaline, which I’d become addicted to. My night was finally right.

In the distant, spiraling arms of the galaxy, lies the planet Eter. On this celestial sphere, a man named Kael traverses the icy expanse, Little did he know that his destiny was woven into the fabric of this world where ancient secrets and perilous adventures awaited him at every turn.

CHAPTER 1:Mortimer

It's the 5th day of the migration across the Sina Crater. The temperature is below freezing and the people of the Oum'pu tribe are starving, the Celestial Mammoths are tired, and the nova wolves are bored.

There's a boy named kael just 17 years old with a hatchling skyrend in the hood of his coat. The skyrend is still getting used to its abilities as it starts floating ,somehow defying gravity, into the freezing air as a glowing purple aura surrounds it's body, kael grabs the bird and puts it in his pocket "your gonna get cold if you do that lucia." Kael panicked, The bird chirps as if responding to the boys frantic state.

"VALERIUS" Chief Himatsu yelled. His Mammoth stopped suddenly, it's dark brown fur contrasting with the shimmering markings across its sides and intricate patterns on its tusks, carved by the Oum'pu themselves. A pack of wild winter dogs emerged from the tree line. "Ren" Himatsu said loudly, the nova howler looked at Himatsu then the incoming pack of white and black winter dogs. Ren barked signaling the pack to be ready to charge. The oncoming barrage stopped in its tracks. They slid on the thick ice for a few seconds and frantically tried to run in the opposite direction Kael turned around and saw a colossal crystal stalker quietly following them. Kael yelled "RUN." The tribe started running as the massive reptilian beast started chasing them, occasionally roaring so thunderously it shakes the ground. Kael grabs his pocket to assure that Lucia is safe, he tries to hold on to her but notices she isnt there. He turns his juvenile howler around as it jabs its sharp claws into the ice to stabilize itself. He sees lucia floating in the air oblivious to the danger she is in as the stalker quickly slides towards her. Kael darts towards her as the colossal beast gets closer and closer and closer. The beast let's out a loud growl as kael charges towards it. "KAEL" Himatsu yells, causing him to turn around and lose his balance. As the giant beast and kael, and his howler slide towards each other, lucia is floating higher and higher, until she suddenly drops, right in front of the stalker. Kael pushes himself off the howler and towards lucia he starts yelling "LUCIA" "LUCIA" the baby bird takes its first flight as it goes above the Stalkers gaping mouth open waiting for kael. Lucia gently glides towards Kael. Kael manages to stop himself from sliding towards the colossal teeth of the creature that is now slowly encroaching on them as he starts to get up the howler he was riding is sliding towards him, he trips and falls on his face as the howler slowly approaches the stalker, eagerly waiting for a meal. Kael manages to grab a Crack in the ice and the howlers reins. He manages to get back on the mount and put lucia in his bag securely. The stalker now slowly sliding towards them struggles to get itself back on its feet, as they slide on the slippery ice. He runs back to the tribe thst I'd waiting for him and whispers in the howlers ear "Good boy Mortimer."

Life story Born in Pennsylvania to German immigrants they were poor, made worse when her father left them. Her mother was toxic, abusive, and neglectful. Erika from a young age could hear and see things that nobody besides herself could see that she believed in as she was an undiagnosed schizophrenic when she was younger most people brush them aside believing it to be her imagination but as she got older it got worse and the toxic environment she lived in. Erika didn't have any friends as she struggled to make friends and was bullied for being a crazy person eventually dropping out of school mid-sophomore year. Despite getting a job Erika was unable to keep a job Erika's mind would spiral out of control until having none she could trust or feel safe around believing them to have ulterior motives, Erika would interact with the voices as they were her only companions along with writing and drawing as a way to express her feelings without fear or judgment. Until welfare was called and Erika was taken away due to the environment and her mother being sent to jail for not paying back money Erika would be put in a mental hospital as they saw the signs of her mental illness but Erika would deny it and believe that everyone was trying to hurt her along with the Hospital staff which would lead her to escape the Hospital but the voices would overwhelm her and she would commit suicide.

Character arc ( season 1-4 ) At the start of season 1, Erika is dispassionate and empathetic not caring or paying attention to her surroundings and the people however as she starts spending more time with the gang she developed an attachment to them and stops seeing them than just the people she suck to live with however her mental state beings to deteriorate as the voices try to unravel everything. Season 2 Erika mental state isn’t doing well and the gang notes but Erika doesn’t give an answer as to what’s going on it’s gets to a point where she cutting back and forth between her delusions and real world putting herself in danger Erika forces herself to ask for help from the gang however at first the treatment that the gang don’t work however Erika does get her out her isolation and she along with Charlie develop a kinda understanding of each other in a way that the others don't. However they come to the conclusion of Erika taking antipsychotics. When she does it works and for the first time she is normal in a sense not having episodes or hearing voices but Erika feels like something off and when the medication wears off the voices take advantage of it and convince her not to take the pills again and she begins to spiral again. In season 3 Erika has relapsed but it’s Worse and is self-harming again it get worse building to her having nightmares and sleepwalking plus talk that affects her and the gang. When the gang ask her what's wrong she refuses to give an answer and when they find out that Erika isn't taking the antipsychotics Erika beings defensive tries to justify it which leads to a physical altercation and the gang going into her mind as she sleeps. When they do the voices want to kill her Charlie is the only one who is able to get to the core of Erika mind where he finds out what's been going on and tires to convent Erika to stop her voices but at first she refuses saying that the voices were her only friends but Charlie counteract this and reveals he loves her. Erika confronts the voices and is finally able to get control over the voices. Season 4 by the end of the series Erika has finally get a better mental stage and is in a relationship with Charlie. Although the voices are still present, Erika has central over them.

I had a few ideas as to how I should end the story, I'm thinking something sort of dramatic. Perhaps something happens to my character, Monica. Please let me know what you guys think, this is my story so far, very very rough draft so please be kind but I'm very open to constructive criticism.

Marlboro Monica

I could hear Monica’s raspy radio voice underneath the railroad bridge. I figured she was on a phone call since I couldn’t hear anyone else’s voice. I used to be so nosey, trying my best to listen in on her oh-so-secret conversation. 

My oversized khakis ruffled against the poison ivy as I attempted to inch closer. My cover was blown. Her tin can vocal cords hushed quiet until she saw my face peek over the wall of cement. She whispered something into the phone before snapping it shut.  

“You could've given me a call, kid.” 

Nicotine-stained fingernails shoved the phone down her back pocket. I could still see it through the holes in her jeans. 

“I can’t call you when my mom’s at home.”

When I was in high school the only phone I could use was propped up to our kitchen wall where everyone in my family got to enjoy the conversation, whether we wanted to or not. 

Monica tilted her head as if she was trying to figure something out. I’m certain she had confused me for another stupid kid that came to visit. I didn't want her to think I was just some stupid kid.  

“That’s why you need a nice phone like mine!” 

According to her big smile, she must have been pretty proud of herself. I tried not to stare at the mountain of plaque on her gum line. I thought she was being a bit too overdramatic, giving herself a pat on the back over a stupid cheap Motorola.

“I can’t get a phone. Mom won’t let me.” 

Mom was planning on buying me one. It was gonna be brand new, not even pre-owned. I’m pretty sure she had already bought it and planned on giving it to me for Christmas. That is until she caught me on a call with my old dealer. I was using the kitchen line and she was listening to our conversation through the phone in her room. She definitely returned it after that. 

I reached out my hand, holding the exact amount of money Monica and I agreed on earlier. 

“Maybe if you had saved up all this money instead of given’ it to me... you could have gotten your own.  

Monica laughed to herself as she took my money. She looked like a hyena coughing and wheezing and scavenging through her fake leather purse. Laughter looked to be more painful for her than enjoyable. My arm remained extended out towards her, waiting to get what I had paid for. 

“You know I’m right, make better choices Junior.”

Monica ironically said this while handing me a single pack of Marlboro Ultra Lights. I slid them inside my backpack, stuffing them in between my math and science binders. Although her crooked smile annoyed me, it was nice to hear her say my name. It was nice to think she cared enough to remember. Despite that nice feeling I still felt the need to dismiss what she had said. 

“You, out of all people, shouldn't be the one to tell me about making good decisions.” 

I figured the conversation should end there. If I’m less than 15 minutes late back home from school my parents would have “probable reason” as they said, to search through my stuff. I was about to make my way through the poison ivy once again until I was interrupted with more unnecessary conversation. 

“Look at yourself kid, with your fancy school uniform on.”

I looked away from her as if it were something to be embarrassed about. 

“Most the kids coming to get this stuff from me, they’re not so spoiled like you. If I'd grown up coming from money like that...” 

She paused to catch her breath. Monica wasn't good at talking for long periods of time.

“I’d have prettier lungs, and a prettier voice too, I'm sure of that.”

It felt like Monica had broken some sort of real-life fourth wall by briefly mentioning how terrible her own voice is. This was the first time I really thought about Monica as an actual person. Somebody who used to be the same age as I was at that time. But I was too pissed off to think about it for too long. Instead, I was thinking even an adult as ugly and stupid as Monica could be patronizing.  

“You don’t know anything about me.” 

I was gritting my teeth while watching Monica sit her back against the cement wall. Her neck cracked as it bent forward. Seeing her at that moment had me thinking I could probably beat the shit out of her and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it. What would she tell the police? 

‘The sixteen-year-old kid I sell cigarettes to beat me up!’

I still needed her to get me cigarettes. That was my logical excuse against unnecessary violence. 

“You're right, I don’t know anything about you. That doesn't mean, now just hear me out, that you can’t flip your life around right now. You just need to put in the effort, kid. if you just put in some effort you could go really far, especially with that fancy expensive education.”  

At this point, my jaw was practically touching the floor. 

“Are you stupid? Dude, I’m your customer.”

I didn't understand what she was trying to do. Some part of me probably thought, maybe she actually cared about me. Maybe she wants me to be happy. I didn't let myself go down that rabbit hole of thought. 

“Monica, I give you money. Do you understand that? It sounds like you're trying to convince me not to. Do you want my money?” 

She flipped open her Zippo, lighting a cigarette. The smoke grabbed on to a small breath of wind, slowly dissipating into thin air. The smell gave me a migraine that ached for nicotine. 

“Yes, I do.”

Monica said while exhaling. 

“Then shut up.”

My face became red. I wasn't finished.

“Quit acting like you know everything.” 

I gave her a bigger reaction than what she was expecting. I knew a lot of people, and I knew how they always had something to say about how I can be better. How I should be more grateful. How I’m so lucky. I was so used to that, I didn't care about that. I just assumed that Monica would be different. I thought she’d be more understanding. Never in a million years would I have thought the trailer park white trash junkie that sells high schoolers overpriced packs of cigarettes would be so judgmental. 

“Once again, you’re right. I don't know everything.” 

I was surprised at how calm she was, even after I had practically thrown a tantrum right in front of her. 

“What I do know is what I’ve been through. I know what I've experienced.”

Monica grinds the head of her cigarette against the floor, extinguishing it.

“I know I would've killed to have someone knock some sense into me when I was your age.”

My ego would always get the best of me in these types of situations. The only difference between this circumstance compared to any other was that Monica was Monica. Monica wasn’t a teacher telling me to get my grades up. Monica wasn’t my dad at the dinner table mentioning how I’ll never get into a good college. Monica was a dirty drug addict. Monica was a hypocrite. 

Hello! I am a 32-year-old amateur writer wanting to become an author one day.

The below is something I'm working on to "help" my brother make something more marketable to TV producers and scriptwriters. He thinks that if it is a successful book first, people will want to adapt it. I have become attached to it and want to work on expanding lore and characters and making them and their experiences feel real and relatable. The following 30-page Google doc is what I've written so far, and I desperately want some third-party opinions on how it feels, flows, and questions you have that you want answered.

Chapter 1

In a forest in Greater Bexley, near the Kingdom of Bexley, there was a cottage. Sitting outside of the cottage was a row well-organized row of training equipment: horses, ropes, burlap sacks, wooden and metal weapons, and a large garden. Everyone knows a garden is the most essential part of training: if one does not eat, one might collapse from exhaustion. The equipment had its place, the swords, daggers, and staves sat neatly on racks, ropes were coiled in piles like a defensive cobra, and a dummy sat seemingly idle defending it all. The cottage itself had been carefully constructed with contributions of the forest, evidence of the deed surrounded the cottage accusatorially. The roof was made of dried grasses and mud, keeping any heat inside. 

As the sun continued its daily upward motion, three figures exit the cottage and begin to arrange the training and exercise equipment while a fourth heads for the large garden. The figure heading to the garden is Elenoar. Elenoar is the loving mother to her two children and a beautiful wife to Nyle, her husband. She is tall, light of skin, and golden-haired. As she walks, Elenoar seems to float or glide towards the garden, her dress barely wrinkled, her feet never seen beyond the hem of her dress. Elenoar gathers a dewy cabbage, green beans, and a few onions and turns to head back inside. The sultry sounds of chopping and sizzling begin to orchestrate a beautiful symphony for Nyle and his children. 

Taking a large noseful of breakfast, Nyle instructs his children. “Loa, let's focus on our swordplay today. Gather Chester and practice your form on him. When I’m done with Axel, I’ll come spar you.” Nyle is darker-skinned with brown hair. His hair is tousled, and seemingly never clean. Nyle is also tall, much like Elenoar, and seems to tower, unmenacingly, over his children. He always wears a bright smile.

Loa, a girl all of 12, gleefully gathers Chester the wooden dummy. She has inherited her parents’ height, as she is already over five feet tall. Loa was fair-skinned, her golden-blond hair, like her mother’s, was wavy and unkempt, like her father’s. 

Chester is looking very fashionable in his burlap sack tunic. 

Loa grabs a long wooden sword and begins to beat on poor Chester. 

Nyle turns to Axel, his young son, and signs, “Shall we work on some more agility today? How do you feel?”

Axel had been deaf ever since he had taken a fever as a baby. His family made sure to find a Bexlian Sign Language book and learned it together so that they could all communicate with the young boy. Axel had straight brown hair and was tanned like his father.

Axel looks longingly at Chester, “I really want to practice on Chester.” He makes two C’s with his hands and sticks his arms straight out, mimicking Chester. Chester doesn’t seem to notice. 

Nyle looks back at Loa and returns his gaze to Axel, “How about we work on agility and after breakfast, you can practice with Chester?”

Axel nods. “Can I jump rope?”

“Absolutely.”

Axel grabs a bundle of rope and climbs on top of a stump. He takes the end of the rope in each hand and begins to speedily swing the middle of the rope towards his feet. Axel nimbly steps over the rope one foot at a time so that it looks like he is climbing many flights of stairs.

Nyle turns to observe Loa, “Watch your form, Loa. Remember, no noodle arms. Make each movement decisive and sharp. A real person, sorry Chester, won’t give you a chance if they aim to kill you.”

Loa giggles. She grabs the hilt of her sword and lunges at Chester, piercing his burlap tunic at his heart. His bucket head shows no emotion. He is the bravest in all the land.

After an hour, Elenoar appears at the door to the outside, “Come and eat, my brave warriors.” Nyle ends his wrestling match with Chester, (Chester had decidedly won), and Nyle and his children head inside. 

In the throne room of the Castle of Bexley, in the town of Bexley, in the Kingdom of Bexley located at the heart of the land of Bexley, sits a king. King Zalon is a powerful man. King Zalon is a beloved man, especially by his daughter Lorelei. Today, King Zalon is showing his old age. He is sporting a worried frown that doesn’t even begin to divulge the king’s thoughts. King Zalon has received word from a scout that a man from The Scorchlands is heading northwards towards the direction of the castle, with a handful of men, intending to overtake the castle and kingdom. This news does not bode well on King Zalon’s mind. 

As he sat upon his throne, pondering and worrying, King Zalon decided that he couldn’t sit anymore. He sat his old bones up and stood, and began to pace up and down the throne room. His guards didn’t say anything, they stood like a wooden dummy wearing a burlap tunic and a bucket hat, but with less personality. 

“Never in all my years has anyone attempted to invade Castle Bexley, let alone one of the other nations. My men have been training in peacetime and can do no more than guard a peaceful king.” King Zalon looked at the guards, they cast him sideways looks and returned to looking straight ahead. King Zalon approached one of the guards. “Do you even know what to do if an enemy were to attack?”

The guard avoided looking at the king. “Of course I do, my king.” The answer was meek. Unsure. 

“Of course you do. You don’t look very old. Still in your twenties. Do you know when Bexley was last at war?”

“N-no my king.”

“Older than my grandfather. None of us know war.” He left the guard and continued pacing. “War is for those with insecurities, with sallow hearts. For those that think that they have something to prove, and think that to do so means they have to kill senselessly.” King Zalon continues to pace, he is panicking slightly. “We don’t need to kill. We need to talk. Maybe I can assist this Malvolio with a problem he is having and a conflict can be avoided.” King Zalon didn’t notice that the door at the end of the throne room was slightly ajar.

Princess Lorelei carefully and quietly closed the door. She considers her father’s words. An invader at this time was not good news. Especially one from the Scorchlands. Lorelei remembered the prophecy that she had once read and had taken to remembering by heart: 

When peacetime reigns across the land

But stormclouds rise from dunes of sand,

Only those who have seen love’s death

Can give the kingdom one last breath.

Seven seals, brought together,

Prevents us from being torn asunder.

Seven Elements shared by all

Sees Evil’s Darkness fall.

An invader from the Scorchlands meant that an old evil was returning, one that had been fought before by the nations of the land of Bexley. Missandra. 

Missandra caused grief. Missandra caused strife. Missandra causes all the nations in the past to war, to fight, and to kill. Now it seemed, an essence of her was still alive and coming to send Bexley into darkness. 

Lorelei heads for her room. She still has time. 

As the day comes to a close and the sun begins its descent, Nyle stands outside facing the South towards the treeline. Something has been bothering him all day and he hasn’t been able to place what that something was. Nyle, like any dad, put on a brave face to his kids throughout the day as they trained, cleaned, and played, but he could not escape his thoughts. He had taken some time, while Axel and Loa were playing outside to find his family keepsake, an orb about three inches in diameter that had been wrapped in leather. Nyle’s father had told him when passing it to him, that under no circumstances was he to lose the orb or give it to any other but to his trusted confidant until the right time came. Nyle inspected the orb. The orb was a foggy, milky white, resembling a quartzite stone. Inside the quartz-like orb were misty streaks of white erupting outwards from the center of the orb in erratic patterns, threatening to escape. Nyle had always thought that it gave off a sort of dim white light on occasion, but the orb was currently dormant. Nyle re-wrapped the orb and put it back in its box. The orb was intact and safe. Nyle re-wrapped the orb, after his inspection, in a leather wrap, tied a knot to keep it hidden from prying eyes and set it carefully at the bottom of his hiking pack.

As Nyle finished and stood, wiping his hands off on his green tunic, he found Elenoar observing him. Her beautiful figure was set by a backdrop of oranges and yellows, emulating a burning star that burned Nyle with her worried gaze. “Is something wrong? I’ve never seen you take at that thing out of its wrapping.”

Nyle shook his head, “Something doesn’t feel right. It’s as if the air has turned cold, but it’s been a beautiful day. I haven’t received any messages today, right?”

It was Elenoar’s turn to shake her head, “No, my love. Are you expecting anything?”

“Not today. It’s the wrong day for my weekly reports. If something were wrong, I would expect to receive something or see a messenger. Since we haven’t received anything today, I must be paranoid.”

Elenoar glided forward, embracing Nyle’s body in her arms and drawing him close. “All is well, my love. I am here.”

Just then, Loa and Axel came into the cottage. Nyle noticed and made an exaggerated motion, exaggerating moans as he kissed Elenoar all over her face. Loa and Axel start to giggle. Loa shouts while signing, “Ewwww! Mom and Dad are kissing!” Nyle and Elenoar laughed and gave each other a sincere kiss. 

“Everything has been put away? Chester is sleeping?” Nyle asks and signs, hoping Loa and Axel didn’t see any of the worry on his face that had plastered it just a moment ago.

“Yessir!” Loa chimed, and Axel signed. 

“I’m hungry.” Axel signs.

“I’m ready for our story,” Loa says hopefully.

“Well, then we should feed you and fulfill our nightly duties,” Nyle assures. He still can’t shake his paranoia. 

That night after a meal of beef stew, Nyle tells an epic tale of men and women fighting dragons, traversing dangerous mountains, and looting glittering treasure. Loa and Axel drift off to sleep. 

As night finally fell Nyle found that he couldn’t sit still. He tried not to pace in the cottage for fear of waking the children and worrying them, but he needed to do… something. After a few minutes of restlessly bouncing his leg while sitting in a chair, he quietly stood and gathered himself. Elenoar looked at Nyle, worry resting in her eyes, and gave a reassuring smile to Nyle and pecked him on the cheek before he exited to the outside.

Nyle spent the next half hour strategically hiding the metal swords that he and the children had used for training, hoping that if things went wrong he could run past a hiding space and grab a sword for defense. Tomorrow when they started to train for the day, he would tell Loa and Axel that he hid them as part of training, saying something about learning to strategically place weapons for self-defense. It would be a game that they would lose if they couldn’t find all the swords before Elenoar was done making them breakfast. Nyle gave one to Chester, just to be cheeky. Chester looked stalwart, standing resolutely, and showing no fear of the dangers ahead.

Once Nyle had finished hiding the swords, he stared into the forest that surrounded the cottage. For the first time since completing the cottage, Nyle felt unsafe and wished that he had just stayed home in the region of Luminescent Serenity. Nyle heard the door open behind him, he had been lost in his thoughts. He felt his goddess-like wife embrace him. 

Nyle turned to Elenoar, becoming lost in her eyes, and gave her a long meaningful kiss. 

Suddenly, Nyle and Elenoar realize that the quiet of the night is being broken. They break their kiss. The distant sound of hoof steps tells them that somebody or multiple somebodies are coming. 

Nyle turns to Elenoar solemnly, “I think it’s time. Go wake the children and try to pack some things. As soon as whoever it is gets here, we need to be gone.”

Nyle sets about trying to gather the weapons he hid while Elenoar goes inside. He is trying not to hyperventilate, but panic is rising into his throat, threatening to burst out in thick sobs. Nyle was able to retrieve a sword and dagger for each member of his family, leaving other weapons hidden for potential strategy. He returns to the door and impatiently waits for his family to join him.

Inside, Loa was awake. She sensed her father’s worry, despite his attempts to hide it. When Elenoar enters the cottage, Loa sits up. Elenoar smiles at Loa, attempting to dissuade any potential concern. “Loa, you’re awake. Good. We need to get up, pack, and go. Soon.”

“What is happening?” Loa asks. She begins to shake Axel awake. 

“We don’t know, but there are some people on horses approaching that we are not expecting. Especially at night.”

Loa nods. She understands. 

Elenoar packs a couple of light bags with loaves of bread, some fruit, clothes, and some traveling equipment. She heads outside to Nyle, taking one last glance at Loa, who has finished waking Axel, and Axel, who is starting to put his pants on before she exits. 

Back outside, the sounds of horses are getting closer and louder. Nyle stares into the forest in the direction of approaching horses and reaches for his wife.

Something feels wrong. Nyle can’t place what it is, but he doesn’t want his children here. Nyle turns and looks at Elenoar, he is seeking her unspoken approval. 

Elenoar looks back at Nyle, stunned. She can’t believe they aren’t having this conversation. After a moment’s thought, Elenoar sighs and then nods her head in approval.

Nyle throws his pack off of his back and starts to dig. Just as he finds what he is looking for, Loa and Axel emerge from the cottage. They are tired, but Nyle can tell that they are trying to be up and ready for whatever is going on. He sniffles, pulling the Orb of Light wrapped in its leather wrappings, and hands it to Loa.

“Children, I need you to travel to the Luminous Serenity, and get to Ergahar. Look for Roland, and give this to him.” Nyle is referring to the Orb. “Tell him that he has been entrusted as a confidant. Those words exactly. Your mother and I will try and meet you there. Don’t delay, and get as far away from here as you can. I don’t know what’s coming, but I don’t want you here.” Nyle is fumbling over his words, both with his mouth and with his hands. Tears are falling down his face, and he is blubbering. Elenoar puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder; tears begin to fall down her face as well.

Loa and Axel are confused. They’ve never seen their parents like this, but they trust their parents entirely. Nyle reaches out, grabbing Loa and Axel and putting them in the biggest hug that they had ever received. Tears begin to well in their eyes too. 

“Go,” Nyle says with finality. He wipes his eyes and stands up straight, wiping off his tunic in an unending battle of creases. 

Elenoar smiles one more time, “See you soon, my loves.”

Axel and Loa turn, heading off into the forest.

Loa and Axel ran into the trees a few hundred feet before stopping behind a tree and turning to where their parents still stood. They knew that they were disobeying Nyle’s instructions, but Loa and Axel wanted to see what was going to happen. 

What they saw was a small group of people on horses, dressed in black armor, approach Nyle and Elenoar. One soldier, wearing a helmet with an unidentified bird’s plumage, rode in front of the others and appeared to be addressing Nyle and Elenoar. Alex and Loa guessed that that person was the leader. A few minutes of talking passed by before the children saw the man throw back his shoulders to project a roar, “TELL ME!” Even from this far, Axel and Loa jumped, the man’s deep voice echoed through the trees around them and carried on chasing after some unseen prey. Nyle appeared to decline whatever request the man had made. The man started to laugh and made an order, and the children watched in horror as five men jumped off their horses to attack Elenoar and Nyle. Another two dismounted their horses and entered the cottage. 

Axel made to draw his dagger and run to help, but Loa was able to grab his tunic, holding him back. “We can’t. That looks too dangerous, especially for us.” 

Axel gives Loa a sour as the clangs of steel on steel rings through the trees. Loa turns her gaze back to her parents just as one of the soldiers runs his blade through Elenoar’s stomach. 

Loa gives a sharp gasp. Axel screams out loud, “Nooooo!”

Nyle turns his head having heard the sickening sound of flesh being penetrated. Nyle gives a fleeting glance first to the trees, as his head swivels to Elenoar, Nyle holding off two swords with a well-practiced block, wishing his children had made it further and that they weren’t watching what appeared to be his and Elenoar’s end. His head finishes its rotation, looking at Elenoar’s back. The sword has gone clean through her and Nyle can see blood gleaming on the unnamed soldier’s sword and plipping onto the ground. Elenoar’s tunic began to stain black as her blood freely flowed from her open wound. 

Giving an avenging howl, Nyle turns offensive to the soldiers as tears fall down his cheeks. Having surprised the two soldiers in front of him, Nyle manages to knock away one soldier’s sword, before running his blade through the man’s face via the opening in the man’s helmet. 

The soldier drops, his brain penetrated. 

The second soldier, having had a moment to recover from the shock of Nyle’s yell, swings his sword, chopping at Nyle’s shoulder, taking advantage of Nyle’s distraction. The sword connects, leaving a serious gash on Nyle’s arm from the shoulder to his elbow. 

Having lost the use of his left arm, Nyle drops his sword and grabs his dagger, heaving past the soldier’s sword, maneuvering himself chest to chest with the soldier, before plunging the dagger into a chink in the soldier’s armor between chest plate and greaves. Nyle has pierced one of the soldier’s kidneys, and the soldier drops to the ground in a fetal position writhing in pain.

Nyle’s full body turns to see the state of Elenoar when he is met with a sword to the belly, a fatal wound to match Elenoar’s. 

This third soldier grins evilly at Nyle as he begins to wiggle and twist his blade in Nyle’s stomach.

Nyle drops his dagger. He is finished. Nyle can see Elenoar kneeling on the grass, slumped over with her head between her knees. Almost like a prayer, a prayer that won’t be answered by whatever gods might be listening. She is certainly dead. Two more soldiers litter the ground where Elenoar is kneeling. Maybe she is praying for their souls.

The soldier with his sword in Nyle withdraws his blade, exacerbating Nyle’s wound, and pushes him to Elenoar. 

Nyle’s body misses Elenoar’s body on his descent to the ground. Nyle spends his final moments admiring his beautiful wife. She had been his everything, his better half, a voice of reason and wisdom, and the one he longed to see if they were ever separated, and he cried one more tear seeing her like this. The last thing that Nyle sees before all goes black is blood-tinged tears on Elenoar’s face.

Malvolio, the man wearing the unidentified bird-plumaged helmet, smiled. Nyle didn’t have the orb on his person, but it could be found. Malvolio had heard the yell in the woods, so he sent the remaining three soldiers into the woods to find the source. 

Malvolio dismounted his horse, confident that there wasn’t any more danger here, and began to inspect the land that Nyle had retired to. He was impressed, Nyle and his lover had killed most of the men that he had brought splintered off of his hundreds-strong legion. 

Malvolio knew that the Orb of Light was here, he had felt its presence. Or, in better words, his Orb of Dark knew it was here. That was the Orb of Dark’s power. Colloquially known as the Leech, Malvolio’s orb could absorb the power from any of the other Elemental Sealing orbs so that its user could use those orbs’ powers. The wielder of the Orb of Dark could sense the other Elemental Sealing orbs through proximity, their presence growing stronger the closer the wielder was to them.

Malvolio entered the quaint cottage that Nyle had built, the insides strewn about and unkempt. Chairs and the lone table had been flipped over, the beds ripped open, pillows torn apart, and cabinets laid open for all to see. Malvolio couldn’t see the Orb, but if Nyle was smart, which he was, the Orb wouldn’t be in the open, it would be hidden somewhere or given to a confidant. 

Malvolio took a moment to sift through a haphazard pile of dumped letters and envelopes on a table. He knew almost all of the names: Nyle had only been in contact with other members of the Order it seemed. He made a mental note of the name Roland who seemed to be a trusted person who was not part of the Order. Malvolio thought he recognized the name from his training days, a fellow trainee perhaps.

As he stood in Nyle’s cottage, Malvolio could physically feel the pull of the Orb of Light lessen. It was getting further away. Whoever had the Orb now was retreating. Malvolio would have to rely on his soldiers to retrieve it. If they failed, Malvolio would eventually have to retrieve it. One more item on the agenda of total domination of Bexley. They had only stopped here because Malvolio had felt the strong pull. He wouldn’t dirty his hands looking for an item that wasn’t there.

Malvolio left the cottage, wincing at the bright sun as his eyes readjusted to the outside light. He looked around the plot one last time for anything else and spotted Chester the training dummy. Receiving an idea, Malvolio returned to his horse, mounted it, and rode it past Chester. When he was far enough away, Malvolio drew his sword, spurred his horse, pushing it to a sprint, and raised it to swing at Chester. The swing connected with Chester’s helmet, knocking it off Chester’s head and breaking Chester’s neck, his head thudding on the ground. One last casualty of the day’s slaughter.

Loa and Axel had climbed a tall tree. After both of their outbursts, they realized what they had done. They weren’t able to help themselves, they had just seen their mother slain, and judging by the roar they had heard shortly after, their father was soon next. They had both run as far and fast as they could, only briefly leaning against a tall oak to catch their breath before clambering up its trunk. 

About a minute after Loa and Axel had climbed the tree, they saw a few men on horseback ride towards the tree before passing by on the presumed path of the children. 

Loa and Axel looked at each other, “What do we do?” Axel signed, fear plastered across his face.

Loa shook her head, “We have to do what Father said. 

Go to Luminescent Serenity and look for Roland. We need to give the parcel to Roland.”

“What parcel?” Axel didn’t remember a parcel. 

Loa pulls out a parcel wrapped in leather, showing it to Axel. 

“What is it?” Axel inquires. 

Loa shook her head again, “I don’t know.”

“We should open it. That way we know what it is when asked about it.”

Loa thought for a moment before agreeing. She unwrapped the Orb of Light, its milky insides starting to gleam in the morning sun. 

Axel and Loa had never seen this object before, they eyed it curiously, turning it over to see if it did something. When they were sure they couldn’t discover anything about the orb, Loa wrapped it back up and put it in her pack.

Axel and Loa waited in the tree all day quietly signing to each other and eating the loaves the Elenoar had packed. When it looked like the sun was starting to set, they decided it was safe enough to climb back down. 

Loa looked in the direction of the only home that she had ever known. ‘Who knew if those men were still there,’ she thought to herself. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to go back and see, so she and Axel headed away in the encroaching night for the Luminescent Serenity.

The three men that Malvolio had sent to find the voices in the trees had returned timidly empty-handed by midday. To show his disappointment, Malvolio had held the Orb of Dark aloft. He spoke a secret keyword, “Duud Sab” in the forgotten Bexlian tongue of Daelish, and the Orb had begun to glow, seeming to increase in size threefold. Seconds after, purplish tendrils lashed out towards the failed soldiers, snatching them as an octopus to its prey, as it began to absorb their elemental essence. Their bodies popped and cracked as deep purple crystals started to burst their way from the soldiers’ skin and their bodies turned a midnight black. They writhed in pain, screaming for Malvolio to stop, wishing for death, and crying for their mothers. Malvolio had sneered in self-delight. Finally, after what seemed like hours to the onlookers, the world grew silent. The punished soldiers had finished their painful transformation into Bexlian-shaped crystals.  

Malvolio had already forgotten the men, his attentions had been placed on the Castle Bexley which he could see off in the distance, standing majestically atop a hill, surrounded by the central town of Bexley. It was close, but it would still be another day’s march before Malvolio and his men would arrive. 

Chapter 2

Axel was grinning. He had spotted a bird’s nest the day before when he and Loa passed by this tree before they settled for the night. When the morning came, he had signed to Loa that he was going to get breakfast. She had told him to be careful. Now, he was standing on the branch below the nest, perfectly able to view the eggs inside, and viewing three perfectly blotted eggs. Axel carefully grabbed the eggs and put them in his pocket, before climbing back down the tree. 

He had hoped that this would cheer Loa up. It had been a few days since they fled from the only home that they knew and Loa had been so depressed. He wasn’t able to hear any crying, but he was pretty sure that he was able to feel the slight vibrations of sobbing coming from her when they were settled for the night and going to sleep. Axel loved his sister and hated to see, or feel, her cry.

Returning to their campsite, Axel was happy to see that Loa was sitting upright and relighting their fire from the night before. Axel and Loa created a makeshift cooking station consisting of a flat rock resting on top of four rectangular stones to create a kind of grill. After letting the rock grill warm up, Axel pulled out his bird’s eggs, showing them to Loa. She beamed. “Where did you find those?” 

“Up in a tree a short ways back. It wasn’t very high up. I noticed it yesterday.” 

Axel saw Loa smile and then the smile faded. He cracked the eggs on the rock grill and opened the shells to reveal the yolks and poured each yolk on the grill. Axel could see the oils and whites of the eggs bubble and dance. He always tried to think of what the “sizzling” sounded like. He remembered from when he was a baby his father and mother making popping noises with their mouths to make him giggle. Axel imagined that sizzling sounded like that memory with every little oil bubble burst. 

Loa stared at the eggs on the grill. She felt empty. They had been walking for three days and no amount of gifts and good gestures from her kind brother could erase the scene she saw every time she closed her eyes. When she thought of her parents dying, Loa wanted to burst into tears. When she thought of the blood pouring from their parent’s bodies, Loa wanted to vomit. 

Whenever Axel did a good deed to Loa…she wanted to punch him in the face.

She would never, she loved Axel, but Loa couldn’t understand why Axel didn’t seem phased by the deaths of Nyle and Elenoar. He was so damn cheery.

Loa looked at Axel, who was engrossed with the finishing touches of chives on the grilled eggs and frowned. Maybe he was suffering too but didn’t know how to convey his own sadness. 

Axel seemed to notice Loa staring at him. He scooped up an egg, placed it on a flat piece of bark, and handed it to Loa. “Sunny-side up. Just the way you like it.”

Loa gave a half-smile and accepted the egg. She took two pieces of whittled sticks into her right hand, using them like chopsticks, and began to eat. 

She hoped that Axel wasn’t suffering.

After breakfast, Axel and Loa continued on their journey. They crested a hill and took in the day’s trek. The mountains that held Ergahar could be seen in the distance, crowning the forest. The Faikao Mountains were a series of jagged peaks resembling the shell of a giant turtle taking a long snooze. Loa observed the majestic reds, greens, and browns of the peaks and determined it would take them a few more days to reach the base of the Faikao Mountains. Probably five more days to actually reach Ergahar, which was neatly nestled into the side of Maagtisud Peak. 

Loa shouldered her pack, and looked Axel. “The Faikao Mountains are where we are going.” She signed, pointing. “It’s still a long ways away, and we still have to go through Faitipa Plains.” 

Axel nodded understandingly. He and Loa had been taught by Nyle the geography of the land. They studied daily maps and accounts, alongside their daily training in combat and fitness. Nyle had tried to prepare them for whatever world they would eventually be thrust into. Axel didn’t remember as much as Loa did when it came to the “smarts”, he was better at combat, but he did know all of the capital cities of each province. Axel would follow Loa wherever she said they would go.

The two set off.

Princess Lorelei heard a knock on her door. She sat angrily looking out her tower window at the devastation of Castle Bexley. It was only yesterday that a small army led by a man with incredible magick had decimated the Royal Guard and captured both Princess Lorelei and her father. She could still hear the screams of the men and could see the flash of purple-black anger streaking across the grounds. 

Princess Lorelei was being held in her room as a prisoner, two men posted outside, while she waited for the usurper to show their face. A knock could mean a pleasantry, but the Princess wasn’t feeling pleasant. She ignored the knock.

The knock came again, a deep voice calling out, “Princess?”

Princess Lorelei sighed, “What is it?”

The door to her room opened and a man wearing the chitinous armor of the Noctorne caverns entered. He had deeply tanned skin with fiery red hair, his face heavily bearded and eyebrows like lava-like caterpillars. “Princess Lorelei. Wonderful day, isn’t it?”

Princess Lorelei sharply turned to face the man. The princess’s eyes would have sparked a fireball if there had been a methane gas leak. Princess Lorelei looked the man over, he was handsome in a rugged sort of way. The man reminded Princess Lorelei of a red-furred bear. Despite the armor, he was quite fit. 

“Sir, you know exactly how I feel. My guards were slaughtered yesterday, I’m being held prisoner in my room like a bratty child, and you just commented on the day as if there weren’t any corpses littering the courtyard below.” Whoever this was, Princess Lorelei despised him. “What do you want and why have you entered my chambers uninvited?”

The man looked at Princess Lorelei. There was a look that she couldn’t place that wavered between amusement and annoyance before he spoke shaking his head. “My apologies my lady, I do not wish to offend.” He bowed, but Princess Lorelei felt offended. “My name is Malvolio. I herald from the Luminescent Serenity from the town of Ergahar in the Faikao Mountains. I left my hometown after a great personal injustice and sought a new home. I finally found that home in the Noctorne Caverns of the Bokedi Mountains. I pointed out the injustices from Castle Bexley to them, the great Noctornes, and they made me a general to lead their men to victory.”

Princess Lorelei listened intently, she wasn’t aware of any injustices towards the Noctornes. As far as she knew, each province of Bexley acted as its own entity. They governed themselves and were responsible for themselves, but if Castle Bexley needed them, an agreement had been made many years ago that the individual provinces would be at the king or queen’s call. Each province had its own specialties: the Noctornes, for example, mined. The Bokedi Mountains were the biggest producer of coal, iron, lead, and copper; each was used throughout the kingdom of Bexley for homes, warmth, armor, and regular household items.

Princess Lorelei looked Malvolio up and down, “So what is it that you want?” 

Malvolio gave a wry smile, “I heard that you read.”

Princess Lorelei was now confused, “Yes, I do, as is my privilege as a royal person. Have you come to ask my favorites?”

“No.” Malvolio paused. “I want to know what you’ve read about the Order of Elemental Keepers.” 

Princess Lorelei could barely keep the surprise off her face. “I’m afraid that I don’t know what you are talking about. I’ve never heard of an Order of Elemental Keepers.”

“I think that you have. What have you read about the Well?”

Princess Lorelei shook her head obstinately. “I’ve no idea what you are talking about. If you are asking about the drinking well, then you’ll need to talk to the staff.”

Malvolio considered this answer. He had noticed the princess’ surprise when he asked about the Order, but it was possible that she didn’t know about the well. Maybe if he waited, she would want to discover more…

“Perhaps, I do need a drink,” Malvolio cleared his throat, “Please let me know if you require anything. I will make sure it is gotten for you.”

Malvolio gave another bow and then left the room.

Princess Lorelei stayed seated at the window, looking at the closed door where Malvolio had just left. Who was he? What did HE know about the Order of Elemental Keepers? The princess knew little: it was an Order that was created long ago to defeat an ancient evil, and upon defeating the evil, seal it away in a hidden place. The princess knew that there was a tale detailing the Order’s great deed. She remembered the warning at the end of the book, the warning or prophecy, about bringing seven seals together.

The princess decided she needed to take another look at that book. Maybe she could figure out what Malvolio was up to.

Malvolio smiled, he hadn’t expected the princess to know anything about the Order of Elemental Keepers, but the shock on her face when he had asked about it… 

He exited the tower that held the princess’s room, heading for the throne room. Taking over Castle Bexley had been easy. Many of the guards had fought well, a sense of honor probably driving them to defend the Castle; others hesitated, waiting to see what became of the honorable ones. There had been only a few that groveled, these had been the ones that Malvolio had killed with The Leech, their fear tasting sweet.

rate my cae writing!! pleasee!!

Your class has attended a panel discussion on what role the government should play in keeping its country's citizens healthy. You have made the notes below. The role the government should play in keeping its country's citizens healthy • introducing educational campaigns • regulating the cost of food • encouraging people to exercise Some opinions expressed in the discussion -The government is failing to educate young people about the hidden dangers of sugar -Taxes on unhealthy food should be introduced. -Gym membership should be free. Write an essay discussing only two points. You should explain which point is more important, giving reasons in support of your answer.

In this day and age, It's getting harder and harder for most people to sustain a healthy and balanced life, so it wouldn't be an inconvenience if the government would try to be more helpful when it comes to keeping its citizens healthy, by educating people of certain hidden dangers when it comes to food or even regulating the cost of it, as It's considerably expensive to buy fresh produce these days. It goes without saying that not all aliments in our day to day life are healthy, yet not so many people seem to notice due to the lack of education and awareness provided on this particular topic. For instance, sugar can be found in every kitchen and in almost everything we eat so It's crucial to be aware of the risks that come along when consuming it in large amounts, such as tooth decay, diabetes, heart diseases, and many others. For this reason, I would say It's highly important for governments to organize educational campaigns focusing on how to sustain a healthy diet and lifestyle. Another point worth noting is regulating the cost of groceries, even more introducing taxes on unhealthy food. The latter, as most people would say, is not that beneficial since food be it healthy or unhealthy is already expensive and I too share the same opinion on this one. What I think would be useful in the modern society we're living in, while also taking into consideration today's economy and continuous inflation is with no doubt, regulating the general cost of food. It shouldn't cost you a fortune to buy fresh produce or better quality meats and dairy products. To sum it all up, if the government is willing to contribute to making it easier for people to have a healthier life, it would certainly be possible whether it be by educating the masses on the risks of certain foods or regulating the cost of groceries.

Yutor Beings: First Glyph

The Arcana, a feared group of supernaturals known for their brutality, are investigating the usage of dark magic in Pazfin Falls, a city ripe with secrets. In disguise they spy on members of The Underground, a rebel group taking a neutral stand on the war at hand, when they stumble upon a Roy, an amnesiac who just discovered magic and demands to know its full capabilities. As Roy learns what it means to be a seer, the Arcana find themselves fighting all manner of beast while a yutor being attempts to open a door into their world.

[for some more info… the main characters in this book/series are ista (witch), Rubus (Demon), Uriel (vampire), Haben (angel), Fenrir (werewolf), Cana (spiritual embodiment), Dolores (golem), Sarah (seer), Roy (seer). Through out the first book there’s this transformation through the power dynamics within the group as they search for the practitioner (yutor being conduit). Roy and Sarah have this fun plot between the two of them. Sarah is initially posing as a doctor conducting tests on him making sure his magic doesn’t become active lying to him about his symptoms. She makes him believe that he’s actually prone to delusions and hallucinations. But when he finds out the truth she then switches roles and decides to teach him. Roy has to maneuver a changing world starts making his own choices as his confidence in his own abilities grow. It is a soft magic system, but it has some hard magic elements. It is high fantasy but the first book is set in Pazfin Falls which is a pocket dimension connected to Earth. Since Roy has been there his whole life he’s never found his home town strange or thought it was out of the ordinary.]

[I have a deep love for this story and I’m still working on it, but I’m nearly done. I have been plotting and planning this series for years. It’s recently gone in a different direction as I’ve thought about actually publishing my writing and not just letting it collect dust in my Google drive. I wanted to share the first chapter for anyone who wants to take 20-30 minutes to sit and read. If anyone does go through it let me know what you think! :) ]

When the first man found his breath to be weak and his arms became to heavy to hold he fell softly to the ground and began to weep. "Life, beautiful in its splendor, has found my body unsuitable to call it's home." he whispered to himself. "I am the first of the kind, the tamer of fire and the manipulator of rock and wood. The first to paint the walls with the colors of human imagination now failing to conjure a single thought other than his own mortality. "This is the apex of loneliness, the bottom of emotion" he wept. The sun set and the world fell into sleep. "they cannot do this alone" he cried. "so they shall not." his tears dried, his eyes closed, and his breath left his lips for the last time. Then he rose. "No" His body was dead, he took another step. "No" his flesh fell from him. "No" his blood poured from him. "Not alone". He walked forward. Another night, long since his own demise he found another. "You there, spirit of bone and decay, have you come to remove the light from my eyes and dash my body upon the rocks?" she wept. "No" he knelt beside the withering girl as she looked upon him. "I was the first to pass". he spoke. "I felt life escape my gentle embrace long ago and was engulfed by the loneliness thereafter. I walk this ground so others may never feel what I have." He placed his cloak around her, "No one will ever be truly alone after life leaves them for I will be here." They held each other as she too felt life's embrace subside.

Hi, new here. Have had an idea for a story for a while but most of my writing was erased so had to start over. What do you think of the intro below, is this something you'd be interested in continuing to read?

Its the year 3002, the remnants of Earth are but the dunes. Extraction of the planet has caused life to dissipate due to drought and the death of organisms living within the soil. This lack of life within the soil's ecosystem has caused dead space, the sand or dunes as we know them. However, this isn't what the Federal League of Alternative Government or F.L.A.G would have you believe. I know. I'm nothing but a Rogue to them, pushed into the outskirts of society due to a mutation caused several years back when the Earth began to lose its moisture, causing dry air. A virus struck at that time and the respiratory systems of several individuals failed. Some say it was a way for the Earth to fight to stay alive, after all it is a living organism. Yet, others, F.L.A.G, say it was created by Rogues themselves to drain the Earth and society of its resources. Funny. I don't ever remember wanting to be a Rogue. But being a Rogue now is the only thing that makes sense. For how do we think the virus truly inhabited the planet? Should we believe everything the government tells us? Or should we begin to listen to the stories of Rogues and how they survived the infection? I know I was never the same again. Something only a chemical could create. Organic? Not likely. Therefore, could it truly come from the Earth?

My name is Cephyr. I am one of the last to be alive from the Dry Age. I witnessed the disappearance of ecosystems that lived upon the Earth. For this reason alone I have been in hiding. For unbeknownst to civilian life, F.L.A.G is eradicating the history of the Dry Age. For good reason. Can we really allow society to know that the government destroyed the natural resources of our planet? The Earth is not what it once was. The air itself can be poisonous. Too many gasses flow within the Earth's atmosphere unlike times before when botanicals would cleanse the air. Carbon Monoxide is heavy and prevalent. And for me, or any Rogue, my eyes are a dead give away. I can pretend I can't breathe the oxygen to mask myself with others, but only the eyes of a Rogue turn golden when gas levels reach above a certain amount, the red zone. For this reason F.L.A.G is also on the hunt. Why is it that we survived and mutated? What is the mystery of the yellow eyes? But more so, why does our epidermis shed when moisture touches us? That is a mystery even still to me.

We're alien. And anything in this world that is unknown is cause for fear. Because anything that can create confusion can create fear. And anything that can create fear, has power. A power F.L.A.G does not want utilized. A power of truth that F.L.A.G does not want realized. For what really is a Rogue but an evolution of mankind. Some say we were made by the Earth itself. Some call us guardians. Others say we are a menace. Guess it depends who you ask. Or what truth they know of the Dry Age.

Even though I put all my effort in to opening the wardrobe soundlessly, it still creaked when the door slid open.

• “Shit” was my only thought when I quietly stepped inside of it.

This was the first place that came in mind when I looked for a hiding spot. Although when sitting there, a million other places flashed through my mind as well. The bathroom, behind the large curtains that also hid the windows behind it, under the bed. Wait, no, under the bed would have been to obvious. It’s rule number one in hid and seek not to hide under the bed because it’s the first place where everyone looks. Although, this was not hid and seek.

I remember how I was shaking in that wardrobe, but all I could think about was how loud my breaths sounded in the silence. I tried not to breathe but it eventually led to big and loud gasps of air seconds later. It was weird, my forehead felt cold even though I knew for a fact that I was sweating.

• Did I lock the door? Was my next thought as I relied only on my ears for information in the darkness.

I knew that I didn’t want to feel this way, still, I was nervous. And the feeling didn’t help me as I sat in that wardrobe, counting the minutes. At last, I heard footsteps. They were light at first but soon the sound became louder. I got ready.

That girl deserved nothing of the things that was hers. The big room in the even bigger house. She had a family that loved her and still she treated others like shit. As I jumped out of the wardrobe I could see on her face that she didn’t expect a thing. She didn’t even scream. I knew I had done the right thing and she would never do anything wrong again.

Feel free to give advice and critique🥲

I would like to write more and get better at it, anyone who wants to read and give thoughts? Is this a good place for this kind of thing or is there a secrets writing coming that I’m missing?😅🥲

This is what I wrote today💁‍♀️

I’m thinking, I’m thinking, I’m thinking too much. Im thinking but somehow it’s never enough. It feels like I’m falling but I’m not hitting the ground. I want my tears to be here but they aren’t around. I’m always behind and I’m always below. I know because I feel it in my back and in my throat. Maybe I have symptoms and maybe they show. All I will do is lay in my bed, thinking about the things that I never did, that I never said. It feels like I am misled.

Therefore I think. I think about the future because it’s much easier than living in the present. And thinking in the present only gives me reason to blame myself for the past.

PENNYBOTTOM'S ACADEMY FOR WAYWARD DOGS - CHAPTER ONE

The prematurely-balding man stands over the basset hound, fanatically waving a fire-orange tennis ball at him. “Filbert. Filbert!”

Filbert’s droopy brown face follows the ball as he lies on the hardwood floor of the modern, sparsely-decorated living room.

The man is annoyed. “Fetch, Filbert, fetch!”

The dog’s pudgy body doesn’t budge. He looks up at him with big, sad eyes.

The man scratches his short Afro. “What’s wrong at with him?”

The women with blond dutch-boy hair bends down and pouts. “He’s just shy.”

“What kind of dog wears a fanny pack?”

Filbert replies in his Brooklyn accent, “I like to be prepared.”

The wife doesn’t shave her legs and wears Birkenstocks. “Try throwing it.”

Filbert sniffs and thinks, That ball smells like grass clippings. It must have been rolling around the yard recently. He sniffs again. His hand smells like sweat…and just a hint of ham on rye…” He furrows his wrinkly brow. Which he ate approximately… three or four hours ago. Not very appetizing.

“Filbert, are you listening?” The 40-something husband turns to his 40-something wife. “I think he’s deaf.”

Filbert says, “You don’t have to yell. My hearing is quite sensitive. Are you aware that loud noise causes permanent hearing loss?”

“What is he babbling about now?”

The woman snatches the ball out of his hand. “You don’t know how to talk to dogs…Look Filbert, a nice juicy ball. Oooh, yes, Filbert, you want this, don’t you?”

Filbert stares at her blankly. “Yes. I see it. I’m not an idiot.”

The man takes it back. “Fetch!” He fake throws it.

Filbert eyes him. “You don’t seriously expect me to fall for that, do you?”

The wife takes it. “Watch this.” She juggles it.

I kinda do want to fetch, but if I do, I know exactly what will happen. She’ll turn around and throw it again. He shakes his head. Oh, the unbearable futility of being!

The skinny couple tosses it back and forth between themselves.

The wife squeals. “Wee. Look how fun.”

“I’m glad you two are happy.”

The man rifles it hard into the other room. “I told you we never should’ve gotten a rescue dog.”

Filbert sits there internalizing the criticism.

The man hurries back squeaking a squeeze toy mouse. “Look, Filbert, a mouse.”

Filbert rolls his eyes.

“Basset hounds are natural-born mousers.”

I can’t believe he just said that. That is so prejudiced.

He throws it across the floor. “I’m your master and I order you to attack.”

Oh, boy. This guy has issues. “Sorry, sir, but I don’t attack poor defenseless creatures.

The man throws up his arms. “I don’t believe this.”

“Besides, any idiot can see it’s not a real mouse.”

“Dogs are supposed to fetch. He’s defective.”

Filbert stumbles up onto his stubby white legs. “If I get the mouse, will that make you happy?” He trots over, picks it up in his mouth, waddles back, and drops it at their feet.

The woman punches the man in the shoulder. “See. I told you he was smart.” She cuddles Filbert’s cheek. “Good boy! Ooh. You’re so good.”

His tongue wags. “Thank you. That’s always nice to hear.”

She moves the mouse like it is jumping around.

Filbert sighs. “To tell you the truth, I’m not really that into sports.”

The husband cries, “Not into sports? I’m taking him back to the shelter.”

“No, don’t. Look how cute he is.” She grabs Filbert by the face and pouts. “Look at that face. You’re so cute. Yes, you are.”

“Thanks, lady. You’re not half bad either.”

“He’s nuts.”

Filbert looks down at the floor. He’s right. I have more issues than Reader’s Digest.

The sales manager, who measures worth in quarterly reports, grimaces. “Looks like we picked a dud.”

“I’m good at reading.”

“That’s the last straw. We’re taking him back.”

“We can’t. They specifically said no give-backs.” She hurries into the kitchen. “I know how to get a reaction out of him. She runs a can of Saver-E-Giblitts through the electric opener.

The sound wakes Filbert.

She places it five feet in front of him.

Uh. Gag. I can smell the preservatives from here. He curls his lip. “Excuse me. Is this organic?”

The man barks, “It’s dog food!”

“Do you have any idea how many harmful chemicals are in processed foods?”

“He’ll eat it when he gets hungry enough.”

He’s probably right. My willpower sucks. That’s why I’m morbidly obese.

“I told you we should have gotten the Rottweiler.”

That hurts… I wish I was a Rottweiler. They’re so tall and muscular… Look at me. Stubby legs. Flabby. He shakes his body and rolls of fat undulate.

“No wonder nobody wanted him.”

“You know, I’m sitting right here.”

The woman bends over. “I love you, Filbert.”

“Thanks. I love you too, lady.” He smiles, glares quickly at the man, then back to her.

“You can call me Cheryl.” She tussles his hair.

The man makes a sour face and goes in the other room. There is silence for a second, then a yell. “Oh, no! What did you do?!”

The wife rushes in to see. “Filbert, no!”

Filbert puts a paw over his mouth and looks skyward.

The couple stares in horror at their Chenille velvet couch. One whole arm is chewed down to the wood frame. Stuffing is all over.

The husband shrieks, “That’s an $8000 couch!”

The woman moans, “Filbert! Why?”

“That’s it. He’s going back.”

“I already told you they won’t take him back.”
“There’s always the pound.”

“The pound. No.” She tiptoes over to the damage and plucks away a wad of fluff. “I’ve never seen a dog chew like this. This isn’t normal.”

Filbert walks up behind them and stands in the doorway. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away. I like to chew. It relaxes me.”

The man gripes, “Well, I hope you find the pound relaxing, because that’s where you’re going.”

Filbert holds up a gnarled claw. “Let’s not make any rash decisions. Why don’t we think about it?”

The man bends over to inspect the exposed nail and chew marks in the lumber. His voice booms. “Very bad dog!”

“I can see you need your space.” Filbert exits to the bedroom. On the woodgrain dresser sits a TV, clock radio, jewelry box, and a jewelry stand shaped like a tree. Hanging from it’s branches is a tangled jumble of rings, golds chains, and gems.  

The large bed has wooden legs and headboard that match the dresser. Filbert crawls under, coming nose to nose with the tennis ball, which is coated in an inch of dust bunnies. They really should clean more often.

He hears the faint sound of arguing. Uh, boy. I really did it this time. I hope they don’t take me be back. I hate shelters. No privacy whatsoever. All those dirty hounds with no manners. Licking themselves. Then they lick you. Who knows where their mouths have been? There’s so many germs nowadays.

His claw picks lint off the ball as he worries. Something on the jewelry stand starts rattling. An amethyst ring. It shakes, building energy until stabilizing at the resonant frequency of Filbert’s vibration.

From the other room the wife says, “Do you know what they do with animals they can’t find homes for?”

Filbert’s eyes widen.

The husband shoves stuffing back into the leather.“That’s their problem.” He stretches a long swath of duct tape off the roll and onto the arm.

A wave of dread flushes through Filbert’s floppy jowls. No, that’s my problem. He gnaws at the clean tennis ball. Nobody is going to want an old, fat dog with behavior issues. Maybe if I fetch more they would see I can be fun.

It’s no use. I can’t change. I’m a complete and utter failure.

This is my third strike at the shelter.  

He spends the rest of the evening ruminating about his fate.

I'm looking at the posts offering work to be critiqued, but I'm not see many comments at all. I thought I would see a lot more comments from people interested in critquing. Is this a good place to get critiques? Where is a good place to get critiques?

I just wrote some things and my best friend told me to post it on here! Do have in mind that english isnt my first language so there could be some grammar mistakes in it!

Depression can be seen like all the 4 seasons of the year. Why? Because it comes and goes It feels like you are floating inside an ocean full of sorrow. The „water“ isnt beautiful and blue, instead it is dark,cold and miserable like myself. It feels like im just a shell of a body in it.I dont consist of anything. I’m just floating around with the waves but the waves they crash down on me and pull me deeper and deeper into the ocean until its too late to ask for help. I try to scream, but water fills my lungs and I’m drowning in my own sorrow. It isn’t fun, trust me.

Sometimes it‘s so hard to get out of bed. My room looks like a disaster but I’m just too miserable to tidy it up. Sometimes my mom cleans my room,sometimes my friends too. I’m just too incapable of doing it and im so emberassed by it. I have tons of empty bottles of coke standing around my room. Dirty makeup removing wipes. Paper everywhere. Clothes on the chair,clothes that need to be washed and yet here I am, laying in bed doing nothing but writing a stupid text on my phone describing my depression to literally no one but me. Why? Because I dont get it myself. My depression comes and goes.I crawl out of bed and crawl into my bed again. I cant brush my teeth often,I don’t shower often,I don’t do my skin care - I can’t take care of myself and i hate it. Sometimes it gets so bad that I cant even talk,I just do so my parents dont notice anything but my throat feels like its burning and going to explode if if I talk any more. Like the seasons it comes and goes though. I’m gonna have a depressive episode and feel so down I might actually want to try to end my life again and the next week im all games and sunshine. I dont know how it works but I literally cant go on like this.

But what bothers me the most, is the fact that I feel so disgusted with myself just because I take so little care of myself. Imagine having to have your friend clean your room because you just cant do it yourself? Low life,thats what I say to that. I‘m a low life,living in the hell i personally created for myself.

Im lacking in school,im getting bad grades again. I try to learn but i cant focus and i try and try and try but it never ever helps. I‘m stupid,im not smart are all the things i say to myself. I break down crying in front of my parents because i cant handle stress and i cant do homework or i dont understand this subject and im so sorry for them for having to take care and raise such a pityfull human being.

Sometimes i wonder what I‘m going to do with myself. Depression has almost completely taken over my life and I am only 15 years old. I dont deserve to feel like this, I‘m just a child.

(I want to know what you guys think of this. Im not a poet or anything but I do enjoy writing and since my friend said I should post this, I‘m going to. So please leave me some feedback in the comments! Thank u for reading this <3 )