{ ＩＮＫＬＩＮＧＳ } A Thread For Writers

[team free kick sass]

I'm not planning on a charrie dying [spoiler. xD] But with me, you never know. Be prepared for a sap story, big time, but for you guys, I'll try and keep it happy. xD

[itsdemonnxoxo]

Thank you for accepting me, Fanged. ^^ Anyways, Herro I am Aero and I love to write books and stories off the computer and on the computer. I am very young and I am a teen lets but it to that. xD I am wanting to write a book an unofficial book for The Hunger Games called like An Old Flame. Me and My friends at school agreed since I am a good writer to do it for something fun. I think when I am finished with it all the way I should email it to the author of the real book. <3

[team free kick sass]

Alrighty, here's the next part of the story. Comments appreciated ^^


We hummed on about how I was such a “big kid” now that I was 13. I didn’t think I was, at least. I didn’t have a phone, I couldn’t drive. Nothing special, being 13. Alright, I guess I was officially a teenager now, but I sure didn’t feel any different about it. Everyone migrated over to the dining room table and my mom worked vigorously, icing the cake I had sneaked a peek at when we walked away from the living room and into the dining area. Finally, after what felt like eons of waiting, my mom appeared through the door with a colourful, rectangular cake. Mmm, I though as the smell drifted into my nostrils. I held in a smile. It was nice to, for once, have all the attention on me. I guess that’s what birthdays are for, really. “Here it is!” My mom mused. Everyone began singing and cheering ‘Happy birthday to you…. Happy birthday to you… happy birthday dear Katie….” As the song goes. I blushed and curled up in my chair. Okay, I thought, maybe it wasn’t that great having all the attention on me. Maybe I’m just a kid that should always stay out of the public eye or the spotlight. The song finally finished and I sighed as everyone was fixated on the delicious-smelling cake. Mother began cutting it with her kitchen knife and I saw vanilla crumbs spill from the slice as she lifted it up. She placed it on a plain white plate and shoved it my way. I grabbed it quickly, even though I knew nobody would take it. It was my birthday, after all. The cake tasted even better than it smelled, and I must have not been the only one that figured that. That night, I laid in bed for hours, my ankle throbbing painfully. It looked normal enough to hide, I figured. My family noticed a limp when I woke up in the early morning, but I refused to tell them how much sleep I had lost over it and how much it hurt. Aunt Mallory and Uncle Patrick had flown home, but I hadn’t gotten up early enough to say good-bye. As the sun rose, my ankle became almost perfect again. At 12:30, mom drove me to my game. I slung my ball bag over my shoulder and grinned, jogging over to the dugout where the rest of my team was getting their gloves. I sat my bad next to my friend, Anna’s, bag and she gave me a friendly punch when she saw me. A gentle wind swept through my light brown hair. I spotted a pony-tail on my wrist and tied my un-cooperating hair back. “Hey Anna, wanna go play catch?” I asked. We always did this before games. Coach asked everyone to arrive 30 minutes before any game to warm-up and practise. Anna smiled, “Erica already asked me, sorry.” I frowned. “Okay. I’ll go ask Jessica.” I shrugged my shoulders and walked away to my other friend, Jess. She’s probably are strongest batter on the team, and she usually plays short-stop or first base. I guess sometimes I’m a bit jealous of her batting average, oh whatever. “Hey Jessica,” I began, “Want to practise with me for a bit?” She slipped on her leather glove and swung her arms around, loosening them up for the game, I realized.
After playing toss for around 15 minutes, Coach Sara gathered us around. “This team ain’t gonna go down without a fight. Ya’ll gonna have to play hard, real hard.” She stared into our eyes deeply. “No wastin’ time. Steal a base each pitch. ‘Less it’s real risky. Don’t want no outs, we gonna win this game.” We put our hands in a circle and cheered, then hustled off of the field.
The rest of the game flew by rapidly. It was the 7th inning, and we were down by one. I was up to bad. On deck, my swing was wonky. That didn’t make me feel very good. I breathed deeply as I walked up to the plate. Pitch number one; it was an inside fastball. I swung. I missed. Throwing my head back in disgust and unhappiness, I took a step out of the box and shook my arms, sighing. Returning to the plate, I rearranged myself into the batter’s stance I do every time I go up to bat. Feet shoulder length apart, arms up, weight shifting. It’s all part of being a ball player. The next pitch came in slow, but it was far to the left. I couldn’t reach it. No way. “Ball one!” The umpire shouted behind me. Next pitch, I thought, I have to swing. I have to swing hard. Turns out I didn’t have to, though. The small yellow ball rolled in the clay. The opposing team’s pitcher looked unhappy with her performance, and her team and coaches obviously agreed. “C’mon, Lily! Right down the middle! Make her swing!” The center-fielder encouraged. Turns out that’s exactly what happened on the next throw. It was directly down the middle, waist height, fastball. I swung hard. Ball and bat connected. It was a feeling like no other. I began running, sliding my bat to my team in the dugout as I did so. The ball hit the ground with a plunk and I kept running as the ball kept rolling. Left field chased after it unsuccessfully. I grinned a mile-long smile as I touched home. My team hooted and hollered. And best of all, I had gotten the runner on third, my teammate Lisa, home. That meant we had beaten the team. As if he could read my mind, the umpire yelled, “That’s game!” The other team sulked and collected their bags, while my team jumped up and down, running around the field. So it wasn’t the championships, it was a game. A game is a game. And we won it. That’s all that matters.
My brother had a total of 3 oversized portions and I had a mere one slice. I guess just wasn’t in the mood, maybe.

[stoatkiss]

Username: tiedye7
What we will call you: tiedye7, tiedye, tie
Will you critique other's work?: Usually, if I have something to say.
Links to your story if you have any: Hay is for Horses
Anything you want us to know?: I have SO MANY IDEAS! I just never write them down, for some reason... I should go do that.

[Sila]

Thank you for accepting me, Fanged. ^^ Anyways, Herro I am Aero and I love to write books and stories off the computer and on the computer. I am very young and I am a teen lets but it to that. xD I am wanting to write a book an unofficial book for The Hunger Games called like An Old Flame. Me and My friends at school agreed since I am a good writer to do it for something fun. I think when I am finished with it all the way I should email it to the author of the real book. <3

When you say, unofficial book, what do you mean by that? Sort of like a "What could have happened" from the original story?

[Tatzel]

Previous User; Enpi the Sketch Cat
New User; ηℯvergreen
What you'd like to be called now; ηℯver, ηℯv

[Colonel Sarcasm]

Username:
~Kitty Softpaws~
Story link:
viewtopic.php?f=57&t=1378936&hilit=story
Thanks Rose.

[team free kick sass]

Does anybody else, who's writing a story or has written a story, have a few plots in mind, and want to start a new story so badly, but can't because you'll end up sticking to only one and the other story will be forever forgotten? Having that right now =/

[Cosmic~Wallaby]

Does anybody else, who's writing a story or has written a story, have a few plots in mind, and want to start a new story so badly, but can't because you'll end up sticking to only one and the other story will be forever forgotten? Having that right now =/

Yup, that's me.

[Cherry]

^Yup. I'm surprised I stuck with my current story.
Um, I think the cut thing would be weird.... And gross.