Peachy Keen {part 3}

Well, here is the last part of Peachy Keen. I hope everyone enjoyed it, even though I'm not sure if anyone's actually reading it.

(find part two here)

Three weeks later…

I sang as I washed the dishes, soapy foam flying everywhere. I always had such fun washing dishes. I liked to make things clean and shiny. I rinsed the last dish, and still humming, skipped into the living room where my mother was sitting at the computer. She turned to me, a look of anger crossing her face. “What’s the matter, Mom?” I asked, but before the words were out of my mouth, I knew. Splashed across the computer monitor were the words, “Congratulations! You’re in the TOP TWENTY!” and a picture of my cake, Peachy Keen, was below them.

It had been about three weeks since I had sent the recipe, and I hadn’t thought about it much, except for a few pinpricks from my guilty conscience. My family had eagerly devoured the peach cake, destroying the evidence of my crime. Just at that instant, looking at Mom’s furious face, I wondered why I thought she would’ve been happy with my disobedience. I was in so much trouble, and it was all my fault. I backed up a few steps and squeaked, “Mom, I’m so—”

“Olivia Helen Thompson,” she growled, “what have you done?”

I sat at the end of my bed, miserable, my eyes red from crying. My parents stood before me, glaring their hardest. Not that I would’ve blamed them at that moment. I was furious with myself. I wanted to glare at myself, too, except that I had a splitting headache from crying too much. “This is what we are going to do,” my father started to slowly pace up and down, thinking of my punishment, “You obviously didn’t care what your mother said. She told you no.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I sniffled.

“So now we need to make a decision.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Sniffle.

“You can either pull out of the contest willingly, or we’ll do it for you.”

“But… but, I wanted to—” I jerked my head up, “I thought—”

My mom glared harder. “You thought you could do whatever you wanted, that you wouldn’t get in trouble, that we’d be happy about it?” Her voice rose.

My head dropped again. Even though I wasn’t happy with myself, I thought maybe they would let me participate, and then I would be punished. That maybe they were secretly proud of me. Of course that’s not the case, I thought rebelliously, turning my face away from my angry mother.

“Look at your mother,” my father rumbled, frightening me, and my head whipped toward her. “Olivia…” she shook her head, softening, “You know we love you, and I want to trust you. But this is a lie, a big, big lie. A sin. I thought we taught you about what God thinks about liars.”

A tear escaped from my eye, running down my cheek. I didn’t really think much about God. Only at church.

“I want to trust you,” Mother repeated, “But now I can’t. Don’t you see? If you lie once, that makes it easier to lie again, and again. And then I can’t trust anything you say. That’s why it’s so serious, don’t you see?” She tilted her head to one side, and raised one eyebrow.

I saw, all too clearly, and flopped myself onto my bed, sobbing again. My mother and my father both sighed deeply. “Let’s leave her alone for a while,” I heard my father say, and they both left the room, my mother stopped to pat me on the back.

“It’ll be ok, sweetie,” she said quietly. I only cried harder.

It was a little later, and the sun had swooped down from the middle of the sky. I watched the sunset. The sky was mostly pink and orange and the sun dyed the clouds around it the same color. It was a lovely sight, but I was thinking.

After my parents left, I thought about what Mother had said. Lying was a sin. They told me that when I was younger, but they stopped after a while. I guess they thought I was old enough to remember. Or maybe too mature to try to deceive them.

I sat on my bed, leaning against my pillow, and cracked open my dusty Bible. I knew that my mother read hers daily, and she often talked about what God was teaching her, but I never listened too hard to her. I liked the Bible stories in the Old Testament, the ones about parting the seas and knocking down the walls. But when it came to the psalms and prophets and letters, well, they were just plain boring.

First I read the Ten Commandments, and I sort of flinched inside when I got to number eight, “Do not steal.”

Then I flipped around the New Testament and got caught up in Paul’s epistles. I read for a while, flipped some more. Thirty minutes went by, and by then, I was pretty interested in the Bible.

My door opened, quietly, as if the opener expected me to be sleeping. I looked up, and there stood Mother. “May I come in?”

I nodded assent. She came and sat down next to me on my bed. “How are you feeling?” she asked, putting her hand on my shoulder. “Alright, I guess,” I admitted, and then I hugged her hard. “I’m so sorry, Mother! I didn’t think!”

Mother took me by the shoulders and looked into my face.

“Yes, you did,” she said sternly, “But you didn’t feel like listening to the thoughts that told you it was wrong.”

 I sighed, and hugged her again. “I’m still sorry, though.”

“I forgive you, and so does your father.” She smiled, and kissed me. “So what are you going to do to get our trust back?”

I thought for a minute. “Well, first I’m going to ask Dad to forgive me,” I looked at the floor, because I was about to say something that felt weird, “And then I’m going to ask God to forgive me. I was reading my Bible, and now I know it was a sin.” I tapped the cover of the book in my lap. Mother suddenly lit up. “I’m so glad you read your Bible!” she glowed, “was there anything that stuck out to you especially?”

“Stuck out to me?” I flipped through to Exodus and pointed. “Well, I read the Ten Commandments. And some of what Paul wrote about.”

Nodding, Mother took my Bible from me. “Well, that’s a good start. Can I show you something?” She flipped through to the back, to Revelation.

“Oh, Mother, not that book,” I protested, “It’s so weird and creepy.”

 She ignored me, turning the pages, and then she pointed at the page.

“Here it is. Revelation 21:8,” she said with satisfaction. “But for the fearful, and unbelieving, and abominable, and murderers, and fornicators, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, their part shall be in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone; which is the second death.”

I shivered. “Fire and brimstone doesn’t sound very comfortable, does it?” Mother asked.

“No,” I admitted, “It doesn’t. And it says that’s where liars go?”

“Yep,” Mother said, and then changed the subject, “So your father and I have been talking.”

I squirmed and looked down at the Bible, “What have you decided?”

“We’ve decided that we haven’t taught you enough about God, or talked about God enough.” Mother sighed, and closed the Bible, “and although we’ve told you lies were wrong, you obviously didn’t know enough to not do it.” I looked up at her, a smile playing around my face. “So… I can… still enter the contest?”

She frowned. “Olivia, you think we’d let you?”

 My smile disappeared. “No, but I... still wanted to.”

Mother got up, patted my back. She walked to the door. “I’m sorry, Olivia. But you do need to be punished. First you will write an email to the contest officials, telling them why you can’t continue.”

I looked up, and almost protested. But a look from Mother told me she wasn’t taking complaints.

She continued. “Then you will not be allowed to speak to your friends for a week. You can call Sophie and tell her why, if you want to.” I shook my head. I really didn’t want to tell Sophie about the contest and my lie. I knew she would not be happy with me either.

“You must stay in your room for the rest of the night. No TV or computer. I’ll bring your dinner to you.”

I smiled sadly. “Ok. I understand. Thanks, Mother.”

She closed the door quietly and I turned over on my side. “I wish I’d never lied in the first place,” I whispered to the half-moon, which had risen while we were talking. Suddenly I remembered something I had to do. I rolled off the bed and kneeled down, my folded hands resting on my bed. Then I whispered, “God, I really made a mistake…”

Usually when we go to the church service, I sit with my friends. We whisper and giggle and have a great time. I like to doodle on the bulletin with Sophie. But this Sunday was different. I sat with my family. When we filed into our pew, I sneaked a glance at Sophie. She was talking and laughing with the other kids. I felt a little bit sad at not being able to join them, but I was looking forward to the sermon, too.  When the preacher stood up, I settled down to listen.

The sermon was about Job, who I’d never read about before. It was an interesting sermon, and Mother asked me if I wanted to read the book of Job together. Of course, I said yes.

After the service, I waved goodbye to Sophie, and she waved back. Her smile was sympathetic, but she looked disappointed in me.

When my punishment was over, I invited some of the girls at church (including Sophie) over for a Bible study. We read, talked, laughed, and ate lots of snacks, and we had such a great time we’re going to do it every week. Mom and I are reading the Bible every night before bedtime, and the whole family is memorizing some Bible verses. I pray and talk about God a lot more than I used to for sure.

Now that I’ve won my parent’s trust back, they’re allowing me to enter the upcoming town baking contest. And I know exactly what I’m going to enter.

Peachy Keen {part 2}

(find part one here)

Here's the second part of Peachy Keen. Enjoy!

I looked up the contest on the internet. The deadline was in a month, and you had to write your own recipe, and send it in with a picture. If your recipe got into the top twenty, you had to travel to Washington, D.C. and make it for the judges. The prize was one thousand dollars! I just had to enter. My mom entered the room, and I turned to her, putting on my best pleading face. “Hey, Mother! Look at this contest! It’s  the First Annual National Baking Contest for Youth, and I really, really want to compete! And plus, entering is free!”

“Let’s see,” she said, and I moved out of the chair so she could sit down. I watched her face as she read. When she finished the email, she shook her head. “Sorry, Olivia.”

I made sure my face looked as disappointed as possible. “But… but why? I’m a really good baker, and I think I could win!” Mother tapped my nose with her finger. “Sorry,” she repeated, “But there are several reasons I could think of, even without talking to your dad.” I crossed my arms grumpily. “Like what?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Mother sounded dangerous, so I tried to cheer up.  “What are the reasons?” I asked nicely.

“Number one, you’re too young. This contest is for kids fifteen to eighteen,” she counted off one finger. “But I’ll be fifteen in two months! It’s close enough!” I interrupted.

 Mother ignored me. “Number two,” she said loudly, counting off the next finger, “You haven’t been doing so well on your school work. All the tests you’ve done in the last six weeks have been Ds.”

I snorted. “I can catch up later. It doesn’t matter when you homeschool.”

She ignored me again. Obviously, she wanted me to be quiet and listen. “Number three and last, if you do get into the top twenty, we don’t have enough money to go to Washington. We just took a long vacation and your braces are going to be very expensive!” I flung my arms into the air. “But I don’t even want braces! I hate the way they look!” Mother looked at me with her arms folded and eyes narrowed. “Young lady, that’s enough. Don’t be rebellious, God tells you to obey your parents. The answer is no. And it’s final.” She swept out of the room. I could tell she was not happy with the way I was acting.

I stood next to the desk for a minute, clenching and unclenching my fists, my anger growing within me. Then I rushed to my room, flopped onto my bed, and pounded on it with all my might. I sobbed into my pillow. “Why can’t she just let me do it? I really want to and I know I could win! Ugh!” I heard footfalls in the hall, so I stopped pounding my bed and lay there, panting. My clock ticked and tocked slowly. Suddenly the door burst open, and my dog Cream Puff came in, tail wagging. She’s a German shepherd, and really smart. She can always tell when I’m feeling blue. She padded up to me and started licking my tears away. That made me start sobbing again. “Oh, Creamy, I wish I hadn’t been so bratty to Mom. But I really wanted to enter that contest!” I pet her for a while, and then an idea came to me. What if I entered the contest without my parents knowing? That way, by the time they found out, I already would have won, and they’d be so happy for me that they wouldn’t even be mad! I felt a small doubt at the back of my mind, but it was so tiny, I ignored it. Won’t they be surprised when they find out that I’ve won!

And I began to plan it out.

Click, clack, click. I was sitting at the computer, typing. It was a few days later, and I finally had my recipe. It was called Peachy Keen. It was a peach cake, of course, and it was definitely a work of art.

 I had had a time, trying to figure out how to make it without my mom noticing (and taking a picture of it. I never took photos of my food, so she would’ve suspected), but she went to run some errands, taking baby Anthony with her, and I quickly took the opportunity to whip up the cake. I took a picture, and was now filling out the entry form online. I clicked the box for age.

15 years old. I’m close enough! I told myself. Next the form asked if I had permission from parents. I clicked yes. They’re going to be happy I won! Just think what we can buy with one thousand dollars!

I was convinced. The recipe was good enough to win, and the judges would never know I lied.

 My parents would know later, but I tried not to think about it. This contest was really important to me.

As I typed away, copying the recipe into the Your Recipe box, the phone rang. I ran to answer it, and it was Sophie. “Hey!” I said, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” she answered, “I was bored and I called to see what you were doing. So…?” I glanced guiltily at my computer screen. “I’m, uh, just surfing.”

“Oh,” she joked, “I didn’t know you were into that. Is the water cold today?”

 I burst out laughing. “On the internet, silly!” She started laughing too.

When we calmed down, she asked, “Are you going to enter that contest?” I sighed, with a growing sense of discontent. “Yeah, but don’t tell my mom. It’s a… surprise.”

“Ok. I won’t. I like surprises. Alright, Mom,” she said suddenly.

 “Mom?” I asked in confusion.

“Oh, sorry, Olivia, I’ve got to go. Mom needs me to help with the laundry!”

“Ok, bye!” I hung up the phone and flopped back into the office chair. Looking over my recipe one last time, and checking to be sure the picture was attached, I clicked ‘send’.

I leaned back in my chair and spun around a few times. I wondered why I didn’t feel more satisfied.

What if Mom wasn’t happy after all?

Peachy Keen {part 1}

Sorry for another picture-less post- I'll post something with pictures soon!- but it's been a while since I've posted something I've written. I like having people critique, so please feel free to tell me if you think something needs to be changed. I wrote this for my sister's birthday. Enjoy!

(find part two here)
(find part three here)

Ding! The kitchen timer rang loudly, letting me know my cake was done. I jumped up from the recipe I was writing, and rushed into the kitchen. I opened the oven door to reveal a beautiful moist chocolate cake, which was filling the room with a delicious smell. Pulling on some oven mitts, I slid the cake out of the oven and placed it on the cooling rack. “Ahh…” I groaned contentedly and smiled at my creation. “You are perfect. Just lovely.” I turned the cake out of the pan and touched it lightly with my fingertip. “Whoever buys you will be one happy camper.”

A voice came from the doorway. “Talking to your food? That’s almost as bad as playing with it.” I turned around, and there was my mother. She is an expert at food. She taught me everything I know. “You know you do it too!” I retorted with a grin. She walked over and took a deep sniff. “It looks good,” she admitted, and then held up a finger, “but… you might have done something wrong. We should taste it to make sure.” Mother reached towards the cake playfully. “Take your greedy hands away!” I shouted, smiling and slapping her hand aside, “This glorious bit of pastry is for the church bake sale tonight!” We both giggled, remembering the time we had eaten a whole cake accidently by ‘tasting it just to make sure’. Just then, I heard my baby brother Anthony crying. “Oh, look what you’ve done!” Mother whispered loudly. She dashed out of the room, and then swung back in for a minute to call, “You’ve got one hour for that cake to cool. Bake sale’s at six-thirty!” I smiled down at my cake, adjusted the rack, and left the room, whispering “Perfect. Just perfect.”

I stepped into the bake sale room, holding my cake. I looked around the room. The bake sale had started already, and customers were crowded around the tables that lined the walls. I recognized a few people from church. My friend Sophie spotted me and bounced over. “Hi, Olivia! Ooh, whatcha got?” She peeked under the wrapping, while I smiled and replied, “Chocolate cake.”

“I’m in charge of the cake table,” she exclaimed, pointing, “Let’s give it a place of honor!”

We walked over together, pushing through the crowds, and I placed my cake in the center of the table. “Nice,” Sophie commented.

“It does look nice there,” I agreed. She rattled her money box and grinned. “I’m ready for customers.”

 “Let them eat cake!” I declared, and we both giggled.

I browsed for a while, wallet in hand, but I didn’t see anything that looked good enough to buy. I’d be ashamed if I made any of these desserts, I thought, but then quickly banished the thought. I knew Mother would be shocked. I could almost hear her saying, “Being prideful is like boasting. We should never boast except in Jesus Christ.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but since Mother and Daddy didn’t like pride, neither did I.

Near the end of the sale, I bought some chocolate-chip cupcakes. As I took a bite, I noted that they tasted better than they looked. Yum.

We stayed after the bake sale to help clean up. I volunteered to take the trash out, and Sophie went with me. “Don’t take too long, though,” Mother cautioned, “Your father will be home soon, and I suspect he’ll be hungry.”

Sophie and I walked to the big garbage cans out back, several bags in our hands, and talking all the way. “Your cake was the first thing sold!” Sophie said gleefully, “There was almost a fight over it!”

I opened the can and giggled. “That one’s a keeper, then. It was my mom’s recipe, but I added a few things.”

Sophie sighed and dumped the bags into the trash, and we slowly began walking back.

“I don’t see how you can add things to a recipe and just hope it’ll come out,” she remarked. “I don’t hope it’ll come out,” I exclaimed, “I know it will!” We both laughed and headed out to the parking lot. “By the way,” Sophie said, “did you know there’s going to be a national baking contest soon? I think it’s called like, the National Youth Contest, or something.”

“I hadn’t heard,” I murmured, “When is it?”

“Not sure, you’ll have to look it up,” Sophie looked up at the setting sun, which was coloring the sky orange and purple, and pointed a finger. “Look, isn’t it pretty!”  

I wasn’t interested in sunsets. “I hope I’ll be able to enter.”

“What? Oh, the contest. I’m sure your mom will let you enter,” Sophie hooked her arm into mine. “You are such a good cook!”

I love to bake, as you’ve probably already guessed. Some girls obsess over makeup and clothes, but I feel the same way about pie and cream puffs. My passion started about six years ago, when I was eight. Baking was alright, but I didn’t love it. That is, until my mother (who was a famous chef before she married) started showing me how to bake. The first batch of cookies I made turned out perfectly. After that, I was hooked. I wasn’t satisfied until every recipe was perfect. And now, I couldn’t stop even if I tried. I write my own recipes, or sometimes modify others. But I try to give each recipe my own special touch.

The Tower... (pt 2)

 See Part 1 if you haven't read it already.

 First day of the building of the Great Tower

I suspect that now we will be counting the years by the Great Tower. So now I will write the days by the building of it. It is exciting, watching the Tower’s foundation. I have made lots of bricks today, and they are all sitting in a row in the sun, which by this time is very hot. I think Mother is a bit silly for not wanting to build this Tower.

5^th day of the building of the Great Tower

 I have not written for a while because I am busy with the bricks and too tired at night. Mother and Father have had a big argument and Father keeps shouting that now men are more powerful than God now. Mother only says, “The tower has not been built yet.”

 7^th day of the building of the Great Tower

So hot today! I sweat just watching the men who build. The tower is now higher than a man. It is very impressive already. I love making bricks. First I gather some mud and mix in some straw or grass. Then I shape it with my hands into a large square shape for stacking. After that I line them up along the ground. They take about three days to dry completely, as they are pretty big. It is fun! For the midday meal, we have fruit and meat.

8^th day of the building of the Great Tower

 Today a man fell off of the tower and was injured badly. He and some other men were having an argument and he was pushed off. I think he will be okay, but he cannot walk or work.

 9^th day of the building of the Great Tower

The Tower is now bigger than our tallest tent! It is so amazing and it makes me dizzy when I tip my head back to look at the top. Still making bricks, thankfully not very hot work, as we are working with the cool mud.

13^th day of the building of the Great Tower

Mother has refused to make any more bricks. Father has coaxed her and threatened her, but she says, “No. I will not. I’m sure it does not please God.”

Father nearly shouts, “We are stronger than God! We do not need him!”

 Adam boasts to me, “I know all about building now!” and I tell him, “I know all about brick-making!” I feel as if I have made hundreds. The Tower is getting bigger and bigger. It looks almost as tall as the sky now. The men working on top look like ants, and the bricks like seeds. Caleb now points to the structure and says, “Fatha. Ada. Build!” We clap and smile when he says this.

15^th day of the building of the Great Tower

The Tower is so huge! It seems as though when we set our minds to it, we can team up and do a really big thing. Is it possible that men really are stronger than God? Could it be?

18^th day of the building of the Great Tower

 Abigail and I play as we make the bricks. We each try to race each other to make the most bricks. I usually win, but sometimes it’s a tie.

Another man fell off the Tower today. Except this time, it was so tall that he died. I feel sad for his family, but I’m also surprised that there haven’t been more injuries.

Later

 I am so frightened and sad! Right after I wrote that, I heard a loud commotion and ran outside. Adam was lying on the ground, not moving with his eyes closed, and a crowd had gathered around him. “Are you okay?” People were asking. But he did not respond. I dropped to my knees by him. “Adam!” I screamed, “Can’t you hear me?” After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked around. “What has happened?”

The crowd that had gathered sighed. The man in charge said, “A brick came down and hit him. He must have been stunned.”

Father pushed through the crowd, looked around mutely, and pulled Adam to his feet.

“Come along children. We will go home.” He led the way back to our tent.

Adam is all right now. He was fine after he got some rest. But I hope there will be no more injuries.

21^st day of the building of the Great Tower

Hot today. It looks as if the Tower is nearly finished, yet the foremen keeping shouting, “More, more, taller! We will make a name for ourselves!” They do not seem to be satisfied, although I think it is more than enough. Maybe men really are more powerful than God?

100^th day of the building of the Great Tower

We have been so busy. Part of the Tower collapsed and we had to work harder and harder to re-build it. There was no time for playing or writing. The men who were building it got very angry, including Father. It was also extremely hot today.

140^th day of the building of the Great Tower

There have been several deaths. Part of the Tower fell down again and men were buried under the bricks. The men who are in charge of this project are angry at the men who are building and we who are making the bricks. They say the foundations are weak and so are the bricks we made.

Very hot today.

200^th day of the building of the Great Tower

The Tower is now almost finished. The men have gone slowly and I have worked extra hard making my bricks. I can’t wait till it’s done!

215^th day of the hot months

I was so surprised when it happened. I was talking to Abigail and all of a sudden she began babbling in a strange tongue. “What did you say?” I asked. But I couldn’t understand her. I ran out of the tent in great alarm, and tried to speak to one of the foremen, but he was talking in the same way! By this time I was sure that I was turning crazy. A few people came running up to me and tried to speak to me, but I only understood one of them, and he was in too great a hurry to listen. Finally I found Mother, who had been visiting one of the ladies, and to my great relief, I could understand her. I clung to her and sobbed. I am still distraught now, and I now will sleep and hope that it was all a bad dream.

216^th day of the hot months

I awoke, and it was not a bad dream, although today was more organized. There are several other families who speak the same tongue as we. We have decided to move on, maybe East or South.

218^th day of the hot months

I am excited to be moving on. It does seem strange to not understand the others. We are packing up again, ready to move to the East.

219^th day of the hot months

I have run out of papyrus, and Father will not get more. I hope that when I grow up, I will find more and write to my heart’s content. But until then, we will be moving steadily East-ward, hoping to find water and shelter.

Rebecca.

What did you think? I had the idea a while ago but I just finished it recently. I know it probably wasn't Biblically or time periodly (?) accurate, but it's hard to write something based on such a tiny story! Hope you liked it.

Grace be with you,

Abby :D

The Tower... (pt 1)

1^st day of the hot months

My name is Rebecca. I am twelve years old and I am writing this as an account of my days, so that people who see this can know what I was like and what I did. It was my brother Adam who taught me to read and write. He said that he will not have a brother-in-law who will be inconvenienced by having an illiterate wife. I think he just wanted to show off his skills of writing because I will not be married for a long, long while. And in marriage, you do not need to know writing, only a little reading and math for going to the market.

My father is a very smart man. He loves his family very much, and always tries to do what is best for us, but when he is angry he is rather unpleasant to be around. I will tell you about Mother later, because it is busy in the house now as we are going to leave for a place called Shinar soon and we are packing up.

3^rd day of the hot months

 I am sneaking in a moment before bed to tell you of my mother. She is the loveliest woman I have ever seen. I am no good at describing faces, so I will not try, but I can describe her lovely hair. Her hair is almost calf-length and she wears it in a thick bun every day, and takes it down only at night. O, how I love to watch her take down her hair in the evening! It is one of my favorite things to do!

My baby brother Caleb is a sweet boy, almost two years old. He looks most like my mother, for my other brother and I look like Father, who has brown hair, gray eyes, and is very tall. I now need to blow out the candle, as it grows late.

5^th day of the hot months

 We are settled in Shinar, after a very long day of travel. Our tent is kind of small, with only one room for sleeping and cooking. There is plenty of food around to eat, though, so we are not hungry. My friend Abigail lives in the tent next to us and I like to play with her too. We chase each other around and play games. There are plenty of flowers and we make chains of them to wear, though Adam says that is vain. I do not see anything vain about wearing God’s creation.

7^th day of the hot months

 Mother has forbid me to go outside after dark. She says there are evil people lurking about. Father goes out at night, but I know not what he does. It scares me when he goes out because I think he might not come back, but I know he can take care of himself. I asked Adam what Father did when he went away at night, but he said, “Little girls shouldn’t be so curious,” which means that he will not tell me. I wanted to ask Mother but she gets troubled when I ask her such things. Also she is busy unpacking and talking with the other women. So today I just kept out of the way of unpacking and played with Caleb.

10^th day of the hot months

Today my grandfather told me some stories of Noah and his adventures in the Ark. It does not seem possible for the whole world to be flooded, nor for the whole human race to be annihilated. Of course, God told Noah that it would never happen again (the whole world being flooded, that is) and put a rainbow in the sky. I have seen the rainbow but I did not know the story very well. It is an amazing story!13^th day of the hot months It is not fair! The whole family went to a meeting and I was left behind to watch Caleb! I think the meeting is to talk about where to travel next. Mother said, “It is only a short meeting, Rebecca.”

I wore my most unpleasant expression and coaxed to be able to go, but after a while Father looked at me angrily and said, “That is enough sulking, Rebecca. Stop this instant.” I did not want him to be angry with me, so I put a smile on and waved as they left.

Later

I am so astonished!

Mother and Father came home from the meeting arguing. Adam would not tell me what happened, but again said, “Little girls should not be so curious.” After I went to bed, I could hear them talking by the coals of the fire. “I think it is a wonderful idea. We should be making our mark on the world,” Father said. He sounded angry. Mother said something about it not being pleasing to God and then Father raised his voice. “I do not care! God has been so quiet lately that I am not sure if he is real!” I feel so sad. Father does not love God anymore?

14^th day of the hot months

Now I have learned what the meeting was about. Mother told me sadly that we are going to be making bricks for a tall, tall, tower. She said that one of the men got up at the beginning of the meeting and excitedly shouted, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves; otherwise we will be scattered over the face of the whole earth!” Everyone at the meeting thought it was a good idea, except I think for Mother. They divided the work evenly, so the men will be building it, which means Father and Adam, and the women will be helping with the bricks. I love the idea of a big, big tower.

story idees

 These are some ideas I had during my daily life. I typed them up off the top of my head, so don't expect any first-class writing. How do you like them? Do you have some helpful criticism to add? The two paragraphs are not related, by the way.

“Any last words, Jones?” The town’s mayor looked up at the man sitting on the horse, a rope around his neck. The sheriff had finally managed to catch the notorious robber and horse thief, Jackson Jones. He had been bothering the town with his crimes for almost two months, and was very slippery and hard to catch. The sheriff and his officers set up a trap and caught him. They looked very pleased with themselves as they helped tie the other end of the rope to the tree. “Well,” said the criminal, looking around at the assembled townspeople, “just that pretty soon I’ll play my last trick. Hah, hah!” The people looked at each other and laughed. He was about to be hanged! How could he play any more tricks? “Giddap!” the mayor said to the horse. The horse leapt forward, leaving Jackson hanging by the rope. But what was this? The man reached up and started pulling himself up on the rope, using just his arms. The townspeople watched in disbelief as he climbed to the top of the branch where the rope was tied. No one moved. Jackson untied the rope, climbed down from the tree, and saluted cockily. “Guess I’ll be seein’ you folks later, then,” he called, and winked. Then he was gone. The people couldn’t believe it. Nobody made a move. No one spoke. They weren’t sure what they had just seen. Finally, one by one, the townspeople dispersed, talking amongst themselves.

“It’s creepy,” the words were spoken in a whisper. I rolled my eyes and looked over at my cousin. “Come on,” I sneered, “Are you saying that one old abandoned trailer is creepy?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m not chicken, if that’s what you’re saying.”

I gestured toward the old trailer. “Then come on. You promised you’d come with me.” We were going on an expedition. My cousin Thomas and I loved to explore and find treasures (well, to us they were) like old bottle caps and pennies. I asked him to come with me to the old abandoned mobile home way back in our woods to see what we could find. “There’s probably things living in there,” he whispered to me as we got closer. “Things? Like what kind of things?” I asked sarcastically.

“Um… like spiders…”

“You mean like ghosts?” I smiled incredulously, “come on Thomas. Ghosts aren’t real.”

We were almost to the door when suddenly a loud crash came from inside. “Oh, they aren’t?” Thomas was shivering; I could hear his teeth chatter.
"Let’s go home!” I whispered to him frantically, scared now myself. But it was too late.

The door sque-eaked open and out stepped…

Grace be with you,

Abby :D

ps. The trailer one came from a abandoned looking mobile home in our neighborhood.

A peek into an amateur author's mind...

1. I was riding the subway, bumping around on the seat next to the window, surrounded by random people and their luggage, staring out at the fast-moving scenery and holding onto my sleek black leather suitcase for dear life. I had a cigarette clenched between my teeth, which was odd because I didn’t usually smoke. I also had twelve bullets in my shirt pocket, a pistol in the suitcase, and a cover story in my head. I was a spy. At that moment in time, I was on my way back to headquarters between missions. I was feeling rather sick, partly from the fast movement of the subway and partly from the smell of the people around me. Most of them smelled as if they hadn’t washed in weeks. I quickly squeezed my way to the restroom, just in case I lost my lunch. After the queasy feeling had stopped, I stepped back out and stood near the door. All of a sudden, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a slim, nicely dressed lady carrying a suitcase similar to mine. “Excuse me. Are you… Agent 352?” She asked, consulting a piece of paper. “That depends on who you are.” I replied. She seemed very annoyed, and reached into her coat to pull out a badge. “I’m Agent Smith, your superior officer. I’ve been sent from headquarters to inform you of an important mission.” “Got it,” I replied, and followed her to the luggage room at the back of the train. Sitting down, she motioned to an adjacent chair. “All right, listen up, agent, you’ll only get these instructions once and you can’t write them down. Your life depends on this mission, if you fail you die.”


2. I pulled myself up on the table, my legs teetering and tottering like miniature seesaws. I could feel drool dripping down my chin, but I couldn't wipe it away for fear I'd loose my grip on the table. Disgusting, I thought. All of a sudden my legs bent and I started to fall. In my scramble to grab something solid, I knocked over a house plant and two books and took them down with me. I started to scream in pretended pain, although I really wasn't hurt at all. "Aw, you silly little girl. Did you fall?" My mother came up behind me and picked me up. "And you made a big mess too. Well, into your pen you go, so I can clean this up." She put me in my play pen. Hi! I'm Natalie. As you might have guessed, I'm a baby, nearly eleven months old. I already have two teeth, which I am very proud of. "All right, silly girl, up you go. It's time for lunch." Mother picked me up and strapped me into my high chair. Then she opened a can of gross baby food. "No! No!" I cried. "I don't want that. It's yucky!" Unfortunately for me, all Mother heard was, "Gah goo bee bah!" She smiled, got a bite on the spoon, and said, "Open wiii-iide!" in a sing-songy voice. So I opened wide, and she spooned some carrots-and-peas into my mouth. I managed to swallow, but it was all I could do to keep from spitting it out. Yuck! After I was done with the mushy gunk, she gave me some Cheerios, which are more grown-up, in my opinion. I ate those up really quickly, only gagging once on a particularly hard one, and then it was time for my nap.
Mother changed my diaper and put some yummy-smelling powder on in case of diaper rash. It smells good, but once I tried some and it didn't taste good at all!
Mother laid me in my bed, and put a fleece-y blanket on me, which was very warm and cozy. I don't really like to sleep when there's still light outside, but I was very tired after all the playing I did. So I settled right down to sleep. Good night!