Wednesday, September 26, 2012

How dreams affect my stories . . .

Well, I don't normally have dreams/nightmares. I've never quite known why, but after my 7th birthday, the dreams started dying down. Sure, I get one every now and then, but probably no more than one every few months.

When I do have a dream/nightmare, it's always centered around sounds/people/places around me. Say, I'm sleeping in a crowded room with my siblings screaming and pretending to sword fight with hangers or sticks or whatever they find. I'll probably dream that my siblings are getting kidnapped or I'm surrounded by a mob of kids (The latter would be a nightmare, I'm sure).

If I have a very interesting dream (normally a fantasy kind of dream), and if I can remember it when I wake up, it'll probably become a story idea. Once, I had a dream that my FMC (Guinevere) was trying to kill me. I still haven't figured out why she was trying to kill me, but it did give me an idea for a scene in the story.

When I have nightmares, like the one where toys came alive and took over the house and tried to kill me (No, I did not watch Toy Story before bed), I normally turn those into suspenseful scene ideas. Well, I didn't turn the toy dream into a story idea. It's already a movie trilogy. ;)

But I have turned other nightmares into scenes. I don't remember them now, but they're somewhere in some story.

Recurring dreams are my favorite. They are the same, but yet, they have a different element every time. Those are the ones I make stories out of the most. I used to dream I was kidnapped at a gas station and then I was brought to the mall, where I escaped and hid in the bathroom until I was able to call the cops. Every time, though, there was something different I'd do. Whether I would escape at first and get caught again, or something else.

There was also a nightmare/dream that got me started with "Changing Time". I don't remember it all, but the story is coming along nicely, so I must have made a good decision with that one. At first, "Changing Time" was only going to be a spy story back in the 1930s. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be time travel (I don't think it was going to be). It was with a bunch of adults of different nationalities, and more of a love story than anything else.
After my dream/nightmare, it became an action/dystopian/fantasy novel. I figured that, if I wanted it to be a bestseller (or at very least memorable), I would have to have the readers grow with the character. But, I wasn't sure. So I asked the terrific people on Go Teen Writers Facebook group, and they helped me out.

Now, my main characters are kids. And I have TONS more plot twists and ideas to work with now.

So, dreams and nightmares are like pals of mine (sometimes). They help me with stories. I . . . . don't do anything for them. :P

So, anyway, just . . . "watch" your dreams. If you do, you never know how many story ideas you may get!

God bless!
Galatians 6:9 KJV

Friday, September 21, 2012

The Fantastic Blog Award

Emily of Blog of a (Maybe) Teen Author awarded me with "The Fantastic Blog Award!" Yay! Thank you so much, Emily! <3 So . . . I will post the rules.

the rules:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award and tag them.

2. Ask the next person five questions and answer the five questions given to you.

3. Award five new people.

4. Always post the rules!
Emily's questions:
1. Favorites: song, music artist, color, food, season?
       Um . . . my favorite song is always changing. It really depends on how many times I've listened to it. Right now, it's "When I Speak Your Name" by Kari Jobe. My favorite music artist is Kari Jobe (big surprise). My favorite color is crimson/scarlet. My favorite food is . . . spaghetti (You'd have to taste my granddad's sauce to understand). My favorite season is . . . AUTUMN!!!!!! Autumn is . . . beautiful. You can't just NOT love fall!
2. Why do you blog?
      Well, I started blogging because I read that was the best way to get readers if you're a writer. After a while though, it became a part of me, like writing. I need to blog now.
3. If you could spend 24 hours with any one person from history, anyone at all, who? The catch: you can't tell anyone from the past who you are or anyone from the present where you went/who you met.
      Um . . . . that is tough. There are so many people I would love to meet. Hmm. . . . I would meet with one of the Founding Fathers. I wouldn't tell them who I was, but I would might try to warn them of what happens in the future, and perhaps they would do a few things differently, and maybe we wouldn't be in the mess we are today.
4. Tell us the two fashion/clothing things you hate most.
      Socks and . . . . flip-flops. I hate those two things more than anything else.
5. Now you have to wear one of them. Which will it be?
      Flip-flops. I can say they fell off somewhere and I won't have to worry about them ever again. *smirk*
That was fun! Now . . . my nominations . . . .
My questions:
1. What is your favorite book?
2. When did you start blogging and why?
3.  What do you hope your blog has/will accomplished (EX: Help other writers, etc)?
4. Do you prefer to be indoors or outdoors during Autumn?
5. What is your favorite thing about Autumn?
Hope you have fun! I did!
God bless!
Galatians 6:9 KJV

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Personal Achievement and short story

So, just this week, I have finished Pre-Algebra. I know, I know, this has NOTHING to do with writing! Not in a direct way, anyhow. But I am just exceedingly happy that I am finished with it for now. So . . . I wrote a story. A story to help me celebrate my newly found freedom. This is a story for and dedicated to all Math/Algebra haters!!! Enjoy!

"The Discipuli Tribe: Destroying the Mathematicans"

Areehah, Destroyer of Enemies and Leader of the Discipuli tribe, crouched low to the ground behind the dead brush, signaling for his fellow warriors to stand still. He swiped his brown hair out of his eyes and looked over the horizon and smiled grimly. Turning back to his troop, he slapped his hands together and looked at each one of them. Thousands, they were. And yet, they were still outnumbered by the Mathematica Tribe. No matter. They would still be destroyed, as everyone from the Academicorum branch had been.
     Areehah's gaze landed on Vaidya, the Healer and only female warrior. She was small and  pale, with wispy blonde hair, and many took one glance at her and decided she was weak. Oh, but how she loved to prove them wrong. She was as strong and tough as all of the men, and she could take on all of the men in his tribe, and still come out wielding her sword and shooting arrows. Areehah smiled at the image. He straightened his face and paced in front of his men. And, er, woman.
     "Alright, warriors, the time has come to destroy the Mathematica tribe. We have worked up to this. We have struck fear in the hearts of many . . . and at last, at long last, we have made it here. Let us not get sloppy and mess this lone chance up. This is our only chance! Do you understand me?"
     "Yes, Lea-der!" was shouted in unison. Areehah's eyes met with Vaidya's for a brief second before he snapped back around. It was no time to get distracted by her big, amber eyes. They needed to be focused.
     He lifted his right arm high into the air and then extended it straight forward. "Aaaaaaaaaaaaay-yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" The battle cry filled the air as his warriors formed into a human wall of ten people, in one thousand rows, as they had done before. He ran full speed, his warriors following behind him, towards the Mathematica camp. They would crush them. Destroy them. Just as the Mathematica tribe had tried to do to them so long ago.
     Images filled his mind and blinded him as he remembered the torture and pain. The way the leaders had played with their minds. The way they has stolen their uniqueness and tried to make them the same as all the others. Fury burrowed deeper into his heart, nearly exploding in a full fit of rage. But he refused to let it out. Not yet. He would need it to destroy the Mathematicans. His legs ate up the distance and he was soon inside their camp.
      The camp lied out in the open. No gates or fences to protect them. No strong walls to guard it. Fools. They thought they were big and powerful, and that no one would dare come against them. Well, they were in for a bit of a surprise, it seemed. A slow, greedy smile formed on Areehah's lips. Revenge would be given to him this day. He would see to it.
     He drew out his sword and charged into the camp. His warriors stayed behind, just as he had instructed them to. Four muscled men stepped out in front of him, their hands on the hilt of their swords. He wanted to scoff. These men were who they had guarding the city? Vaidya could kill all four of them in seconds, with no trouble.
     "Halt, sir, and state your business." The taller one of the four commanded. Areehah looked him over, determining how difficult it would be to kill him where he stood. It wouldn't be too hard, but this man would surely put up a fight. It would not be good enough, but it would be a decent fight. Areehah smirked. Finally, a man worth fighting. He would save him for last . . . or not. His warriors would take care of him before Areehah was done with the leader of  Mathematica. The smirk fled at the thought, and his eyes narrowed. He was here to accomplish something, and he had to do it before sunset. The sun was already hanging low in the sky. Better get this done with.
     "I am Areehah. I am here to speak to your leader, Algebra." His eyes bore into the other man's. Let him dare refuse.
      The man didn't seem to take the hint. "I am afraid we do not let lowly nobodies in the presence of our great leader, Algebra." The man's smirk made Areehah want to clench his fist and strike him across the face. He wanted to shout, I was one of those nobodies! But no longer! But your great leader will not see me? ME? The boy he said would make stronger? The boy he said he would make stronger and smarter and greater than ever before? The boy he beat half to death and played mind games with, making me doubt my own existence? But instead, he said nothing. He ground his teeth together and drew himself to his full height. A good four inches taller, he looked down at the man and placed his sword at the man's neck. The other three men drew their swords and surrounded Areehah.
     Had he not been here for a mission, he would have laughed outright. These men, trained men, were afraid of a boy of eighteen? One that had taught himself how to fight, his only motivation that he could someday conquer and control the whole Academicorum tribes? Never mind that. They should be afraid. They should tremble before him. A smile slowly stretched across his face, and the men surrounding him began to look uneasy.
     "I'm afraid I will see your leader. Now." He raised his left arm in the air, drew in his breath and shouted, "Attaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!"
     His warriors came rushing out from behind the tall grasses and brush, some had swords drawn and others had their bows ready to shoot. Areehah broke free from the four men and went in search of the leader's building. He would only want the best, of course. It would probably be made of gold and silver, with a statue of himself outside. A growl itched low in his throat. Algebra would pay. He would suffer what they had suffered.
     Sure enough, outside one of the grandest building Areehah had ever seen, stood a six foot statue of Algebra. Rage blinded him and he charged up the steps and threw the door open. A fat, bald man came running down the hallway stairs.
     "What do you think you are doing? How dare you--" He stopped and his pale eyes widened as he looked at Areehah. "No . . . it cannot be. It is not you. I-- I-- Areehah?"
     Areehah made a show of slashing his sword through the air, and was pleased when the older man blanched. "Yes, it is I . . . Master Algebra." He walked slowly around the staircase, seemingly interested in the invisible speck of dust on his sword. "How have you been, hmm? I suppose you were too busy torturing other . . . young geniuses to help me become stronger and smarter as you promised?"
     Algebra raised his hand and attempted to speak. But Areehah refused him that liberty as it had been refused to him once before. "You promised to help me, you know. You promised to make me one of the best. The strongest. The bravest." He swiped his thumb down the long, iron blade. A lazy smile tugged at his mouth as he turned his back to the man. "The smartest."
     Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Algebra put his palms forward in what seemed like a surrendering gesture. "But I did! I . . . I accomplished all I had set out to."
     Areehah whirled back around and allowed the tip of his sword to pin the lying rogue to the wall. "Oh, really? You tortured us. You played with our minds. You beat us and made us your slaves until we wanted to die. Is that what you set out to do?" He pulled his sword back. "Yes, I suppose it was." He paced in front of Algebra, wondering what way of death would be painful and slow enough for this . . . animal.
     Algebra shrugged. "I did what I must to accomplish my goal. What's done is done. Let bygones be bygones."
     Areehah clenched his fist and hit Algebra square in the jaw. The man stumbled and fell down the stairs. He landed near the door which Areehah had knocked over. He moaned and began crawling towards the door. Areehah blocked his path. "Not this time, Algebra. I allowed you to inflict pain on me. I allowed you to control my mind until it was no longer my own. I allowed you to run away and hide out here. But no more. I will have my revenge. I have waited years for this. You will pay." He bent over and dragged Algebra up by his collar and shoved him outside.
      "Warriors! Look who I have found!" Cheers rose up through the air, and Areehah felt a burst of pride. He kicked Algebra in the ribs as everyone began to surround him. "So, men--" he looked up at Vaidya, who smiled gently, "and woman-- we have captured him. How shall he die?"
     Areehah's closest friend, Erman, spoke up. "We should tar and feather him. And then, once the feathers are many, we should light the feathers on fire. I hear it causes great pain. We can always kill him after having fun with 'im."
     Algebra groaned. "Please, no. I will pay you. I will give you everything I have. I will make you like sons!"
     Areehah kicked him in the gut. "Shut up. I don't want your money. And the last thing I would want to be is your son."
     Algebra grabbed Areehah's leg. "Don't do this. You hate me, I know. But if you do this, you will have to live with what you did forever, like I have. You will be no better than I."
     Areehah clenched his fists. "Tar and feather him now. But I wish to set him on fire." He squatted next to Algebra and narrowed his eyes. "I will never be like you. I am better than you. I am freeing others from your bond."
     Algebra shook his head weakly. "No. You are only binding yourself in chains of bitterness and hatred. It will be your death. I assure you."
     Areehah stood. "No." He snapped his fingers and two of the warriors lifted Algebra up and brought him to the bubbling tar. They stripped his shirt away and threw bucketfuls onto his chest and back. Areehah had expected delight at Algebra's screams, but all he could focus on were the man's words.
     "You are only binding yourself in chains of bitterness and hatred. It will be your death. I assure you."
      Areehah shook his head and suddenly found Vaidya beside him. He opened his mouth to thank her for helping, but she spoke first. "He is right, you know. I cannot tell you how many people I have seen who allowed bitterness and hatred to control them. They all died young."
     Areehah scowled. How dare she tell him that? If not for him, she would still be a slave to Algebra. "So now you are on his side, I suppose? Did you wish to be his servant once again?"
     Vaidya lowered her eyes. "No. But . . . do you have to kill him?"
      Areehah turned to face her. She met his glare without flinching. "Yes, I have to kill him. He stole our imaginations and our young minds. We are forever scarred because of him." He walked over to Erman and took a match from him. He then lit the feathers and watched as the old man danced as if he . . . well, as if he were on fire. The hollers and groans of pain gave Areehah a moment of pleasure. He turned and strode back over to Vaidya, who watched with compassion and -- was that sorrow? -- in her amber eyes.
     What would she feel sad over? This man had tortured their minds and haunted their dreams for years. This was the man she had pledged to help take down. He was about to ask her, when a redheaded woman came rushing through the crowds. "Metry! Metti, oh, is that really you?!" Her soprano voice echoed throughout his head, and he tried to recall where he had last heard it. Erman walked up to him. "We are ready to kill him. How should it be done?"
     Areehah shrugged. "Uh . . . just . . . toss him in that huge ant pile over there. They look to be the deadly kind. Make sure you restrain him."
     Erman nodded and walked back to the others, shouting orders. Areehah went over to where Vaidya and the familiar woman stood. The redhead jumped at him and tried to claw him with her nails. "No! Do not hurt him! Leave him alone!" It took Areehah a few moments to understand who she spoke of.
      "Ah, so you know him, eh? That's right. You're his daughter. Calculus, correct?" She nodded, a defiant light in her blue eyes. Areehah faked a laugh. "Fine. We can arrange for you to die with him."
     Vaidya gasped and jumped between him and Calculus. "Please, Areehah. Do not kill her. I beg you. Please."
     Areehah looked between the two women. "How do you know her, Vaidya?"
     Calculus tilted her head. "You do not know?" When he shook his head, she gasped. "You did not tell him, Metti? Are you that ashamed of your heritage?"
      Vaidya hung her head. Areehah felt a bubble of panic. He tried to quench it. "Vaidya . . . what is it?"
      Vaidya lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes emotionless. "I am Algebra's daughter, Geometry."
     Areehah sucked in a breath. "No, you are not. You are Vaidya."
     Vaidya shook her head. "We were given different names. Vaidya was given to me by my mother, who hated my father, Algebra. This is my sister, Candice."
     Areehah shook his head slowly as he backed away. His enemy's daughter . . . was . . . Vaidya? He couldn't -- wouldn't -- believe it. He stalked back  towards the tall grass, barely noticing the beautiful sunset that painted the sky just above the distant mountains.
     If he followed the "Tribe Warriors Law", he would be forced to kill Candice and Vaidya. If he didn't, he would have to step aside as warrior, and Vaidya would still die. Any way he looked at it, Vaidya died. Areehah sank down on a rock and put his face in his hands. What was he to do?

I hope you liked it! I am going to make this a series, of sorts. I might write a new addition once a month or something. I'm not sure. We'll see how things work out.

You can check out the Pinterest board here! It hasn't had a lot done to it yet, but there's a few things.

God bless!
Galatians 6:9 KJV 

Thursday, September 13, 2012

"Endangered" update . . .

Welp, I'm almost HALFWAY to my word count goal for Endangered! You can see for yourself right below the "Followers" things on the right side of your screen, on the thing that says "Endangered Progress".

My word count goal is 75,000 words. That's a lot for my very first novel, but I think I can pull it off. So far, I have over 36,000 words, which makes me about 48% complete. That thrills me, because I've never come this far with a story. Ever. I would always quit as soon as I put the pencil down.

I had been taking a . . . 'break' of sorts the last few weeks. Endangered is the only story that frustrates me beyond comprehension, and nearly pushes me over the edge of sanity (And let's be honest, I'm already about to topple over that edge as is) on a daily basis.

But, thanks to Go Teen Writer's 100-4-100 Challenge, I am back to writing it. I've already written 911 words in the past three days because of it. And I think I'm happy with what I've written so far.

Right now, Endangered has been butchered up and is in pieces. When I was bored with it awhile back, I went over to edit the beginning so I could regain my love for it, but never exactly finished. And, near where I'm writing now, I wrote a scene for near the ending, but I haven't been able to connect it to the rest of the story yet (Thankfully). I don't really need the story to end yet. I still have a lot of writing to go.

I have a bunch of plot twists and scenes that I want/need to be written but haven't written yet, so I think that's a blessing. Of course, whether those scenes make it through re-writes and 2nd/3rd/4th/5th drafts and edits is another story. I guess we'll just see.

Well, I had better go write now. I feel inspired, and should probably take advantage of that. Who knows when inspiration will strike again?

God bless!
Galatians 6:9 KJV

Friday, September 7, 2012

Summer Is Ending, On To Fall!

Hey, everyone. As we all know, summer is coming to an end. Which, for most people (kids/teens) is sad. They have to start back on school. For me, not so sad. I've been doing school all summer. And I like autumn. For many reasons.

One, my birthday is in fall. ^_^ Two, it's not so hot. Everything is nice and cool. And then you can break out the scarves, mittens, boots, long sleeve shirts/jackets that are oh, so cute.

Fall fashion is just too cute.

But I think the biggest reason that I'm looking forward to fall is that I have the best inspiration during fall. I don't know what it is about fall that makes it that way. Maybe it's the fallen leaves and the wonderful, rich colors. Or maybe it's the chill in the air and the woodsy scent. Maybe it's the smell of pumpkin pie in the air, and the smoke that eases out of chimneys. Truthfully, I don't have a clue what it is about fall that makes me want to write, it just does.

During fall (though you can try it during any season), I like to imagine myself as the character, especially if I'm walking through the woods or something. I try to imagine one of my scenes taking place there. I pick a character that I want to be and I try to say and feel how that character would feel.

I might go walking around outside or in the house. Perhaps it's snowing (yeah, right. The desert gets more snow than my state). I will think of a scene that I love, or haven't written yet. Sometimes I use my siblings (Isn't that what they are for?) to help me act it out. I'll probably play the part of Guinevere. I'll act out the scene of my choice with the imaginary/invisible people around me.

I always act it out more than once, and the dialogue is NEVER the same. I try to imagine what Guinevere would say. It's always something sarcastic or high-and-mighty.

I would definitely recommend acting out your scenes before writing them! I find it makes the scene more realistic. And certainly more personal to the writer.

Welp, happy September! Before we know it, it'll be Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, and then New Years, and then . . . well, you get the point.

God bless!
Galatians 6:9 KJV

Monday, September 3, 2012

Characters Combined . . .

So, I'm doing a prompt that Bethany of The Ramblings of a Young Author. Click here to see the post.

Anyway, I've partnered with Summer Andrews and I'm using Guinevere for mine. Here is how it went. . .

Harvey walks slowly into the funfair, his head swinging in every direction searching for someone. (Summer)
     Guinevere glared at him. "Who are you searching for? Shouldn't you be explaining to me exactly what all of this," she gestured to the carts and rides, "is?" (Me)
     "The SS, they'll be here soon... they always are, and these are rides, they're for thrill and enjoyment for most people..." stared at her while secretly thinking that she must be crazy or has suffered a recent blow to the head. (Summer)
     Guinevere's forehead wrinkled as her brows pushed towards each other. "Well, why are all of these . . ." she wrinkled her nose, "people . . . dressed like they are? Do they not know how improper it is to be seen in one's nightclothes? Why are these women wearing trousers?" She folded her arms and glared even harder at him. (Me)
     "Are you alright, do you need to see a doctor or something?" Harvey puts his hand on Guinevere's shoulder, his eyes widen with concern for the obviously confused young woman. (Summer)
     Guinevere jerked away from him. "Do not touch me again! I am betrothed, and it is--" she stopped. "Oh, never mind. No, I do not need to see a physician. Why would I?" (Me)
     "I was only trying to help i wasn't trying anything i'm engaged so i wouldn't , you're a little touchy aren't you?" (Summer)
     Guinevere tossed her hair, which was coming undone from its pins. "No, I am not. I just do not understand your . . . society's . . . ways. You are not at all like my home. How did I even get here?" (Me)
    "You talk rather posh, has anyone ever told you that?" Harvey quickly realises that he may have offended her and thinks of a way to answer her question without riling her "but i don't know how you got here, you started a conversation with me remember?" (Summer)
    Guinevere's emerald eyes widened. "Of course I speak poshly. Do you expect me to speak like a common servant?" She frowned. "Wait, I did not start a conversation with you. I was speaking to Marc and then suddenly, you were here." (Me)
      "You have servants? I don't think your Marc is here because I can't see any other guy here who's" He looks her up and down with a look of confused "Dressed as extravagantly as you are." (Summer)
     "My Marc? Oh, no, you've misunderstood. Marc is just a . . . friend. And of course I have servants! What family worth its name would not have servants? Truly, you speak of me as if I am some common person." She sighed as if this were a great injustice. (Me)
     "I don't have any servants, and I've never met anyone who has servants. I don't see that as a bad thing, it means we can be self-sufficient" (Summer)
     Guinevere frowned. "I am in the company of a . . . a . . . commoner. Who exactly are you, Mr. . . . Um, I do not believe I've gotten your name." (Me)
     "Harvey, Harvey Hertz, and I am technically a spy for the Gestapo, although i have technically committed a form of treason against them." A moment after revealing all this a look of fear spreads across Harvey's face "You didn't hear any of that okay?" He starts talking to himself "Oh god what have I just done? - Where has Else gotten to?... She's going to kill me" (Summer)
     Guinevere blinked. "I see . . . well, after I get home I won't have to even think of you again. But . . . um . . . do you mind if I ask what a Gestapo is?" (Me)
   "Maybe it's alright that I told you anyway, you seem completely mentally unstable." (Summer)
     Guinevere's eyes narrowed. "I beg your pardon? You must not know who I am." (Me)
     "I actually don't, you never told me your name and you don't look in any way familiar." Harvey tries to place her while tapping his small walking stick on the ground "Why should I know you?" (Summer)
     Guinevere rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows the Montgomerys. Everyone. You must be from some kind of undeveloped country." She looked him over. "Yes, you could definitely use the touch of the English." She continued walked, her chin raised high. (Me)
     "Yeah, i could use the English to defeat us soon, that would improve my life drastically" He whispered to himself "anyway good luck getting back to England with the war on." (Summer)
     Guinevere spun around. "War? What war? I . . . I only left home a few months ago. There was no mention of war!" (Me)
     "The war's been on for years already, you must have run into trouble getting into Germany." (Summer)
     She blinked a few times. "What? I . . . I do not remember coming to Germany. I was in Switzerland! In Geneva! How . . . how did I get in Germany?" (Me)
    "How is Switzerland right now? Me and Elsie are thinking about Escaping there, but if it's as bad as here then we'll find somewhere else" He walks closer to her and talks fast excited to have more information for his plans. (Summer)
     Guinevere put a hand to her heart. "Well, it was fine when I was there. Snowy." She looked behind her. "Um, are those the men who you were waiting for? They look quite . . . menacing."
     "I wasn't waiting for them, I was making sure they weren't here." He looks around frantically for an escape route. "I need you to pretend to be my fiancee just for a minute to save my real fiancee's life please?" He asks her despratly while putting his hands together and begging her for her help. (Summer)
     Guinevere looked behind her again, fear showing on her face. "Fine, fine. You understand, under normal circumstances I would never allow this, but . . ." She clasped his hand and smiled. To those passing by, they looked like a normal couple out for a stroll. (Me)
     Harvey tries to mask his nervousness the best he can, his hand was shaking in hers until they were out of the sight of the SS "Thank you for that, I will never be able to repay you." (Summer)
     Guinevere looked surprised. "Of course. I may be a social snob, but I would never do anything that could result in harm to a person's life." (Me)
     "Wow, there are still decent strangers in the world... I was starting to doubt there were any kind hearted people left, besides Elsie and my sister." (Summer)
      Guinevere's smile was genuine. "Yes, I would have to agree. I know very little people who actually care for more than their dresses and hair." She frowned. "Not that I know your sister and . . . Elsie." (Me)
     "How about to repay you a little, i pay for you to ride on the big wheel? - since you seem to have never seen anything like rides." (Summer)
     Guinevere shrugged. "Sure. I must admit that I find it captivating." (Me)
     He leads her to the queue for the ride "I'm surprised that they didn't find you the tiniest bit odd, with that dress on, you look like you're off to a ball not on fairground rides." (Summer)
     Guinevere grinned, and then covered her mouth. "Oh, but I was off to a ball, with Marc as a chaperone, of sorts." (Me)
     "Is Marc the just friend or the one you are 'betrothed' to?" Harvey said slightly mocking her. (Summer)
     Guinevere seemed to pout. "Well, it is a bit complicated. I am betrothed to a man named Gilbert. But Marc is a . . . well, I believe he is who my family wants me to marry." She shrugged again. (Me)
     "So you love Gilbert but your family don't approve, I wish my life were that uncomplicated." He said trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt at her life. (Summer)
    Guinevere glared at him. "I do not believe you understand. But, then again, it is none of your business." She strode ahead, shoulders pushed back and head held high. (Me)
     "Okay, I'm sorry. I guess stress and anger get to me more than i thought, i'm sure your situation is very difficult and complicated, but at least have your go on the big wheel before you leave all angry." He said quickly "You did save my Fiancee's life after all." (Summer)
      Guinevere sighed. "Yes, I am sorry as well. I get carried away. I was just thinking about . . . oh, never mind." She waved her hand through the air. "Oh look, it seems to be my turn to go up on the wheel thing." (Me)
     He laughs at her " Good luck, i'm sure you won't throw up" He says handing the man a few riechmarks (Summer)
     She stared at the strange currency and narrowed her eyes. "I suppose I should not even ask." She climbed into the wheel's seat and arranged her skirts. (Me)
     He rolled his eyes while rethinking whether or not she really is crazy. (Summer)

That was way longer than we expected it to be, but it was tons of fun!!!!