One Final Post

In all honesty, I don't know if anybody even visits this blog anymore. That's a good thing- because if you didn't know already, all of these things on here are old. I rewrote or deleted everything. 

I didn't win that writing contest.

I didn't plot out those books, and that is why they didn't work out. I was making it up as I went along. 

So here's a tip: 

ALWAYS PLOT YOUR BOOKS!

I can't stress how important this is. No matter what anybody tells you, you've gotta plot it first. Otherwise you'll worm your way into loopholes, boring scenes/characters, and just dumb writing.

PLOT IT OUT! 

If I'm the only one who'll ever read this, then okay. If you're reading this, though..

• Pay attention! PLOT!
• Check out my social media- I won't be active on this any/much more.
• IG: @itsroseagain
• Twitter: @Its_Rose_Again
• Click for my Google+ over on the right ---->

Thanks for reading! 👍 

My Library Entry-- UPDATED!

Hey, guys! I still want your help with this. Here is the updated Entry-- enter below:

here

Hideaway

Alex hated being lost. Honestly, he should know his way around, after living here for three years. But nooo. He squeezed through the crowd.

“Excuse me,” an elderly woman called. “Have you seen my grandson? He ran ahead. . .”

“No, sorry.” He moved on. A few streets later, a little boy ran up to him.

“Hey! Hey, have you seen my brother? Toby has brown hair, like me. . .”

“No,” said Alex. Eight more people asked about a Toby on his way home.

“Sir, have you-”

“I’m going to be late. . . let me through, please.” Then, when he made it past a particularly thick group, he saw the street sign. Good- it was only a block from here. Alex quickened his pace.

“Could you keep an eye out. . .”

“Please, he has brown hair and eyes. . .”

“It would just take a moment. . .” They grew more desperate the closer he got. Finally, he made it to the house. Alex sighed in relief, shaking his head, glad to be inside.

“How did it go?”

“Not so well,” Alex admitted to his friend, as he dropped, exhausted, on the couch. “They know you’re staying here. . .but they can’t get a search warrant. They’ve resorted to disguises.” The boy next to him sighed.

“At least they’re getting desperate. Maybe they’ll give up soon...?”

“Toby,” he said seriously, “They’ll give up when they catch the real guy.”

Toby moaned. “I won’t have to move again, will I? I was hoping for a few more weeks, at the least.” Instead of answering, Alex walked to the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Toby grumpily caught the orange Alex tossed. “I liked it here. . . The last place was an apartment, no room at all. The one before that. . . Why are they looking for me? It’s not my fault he looks as handsome as I do.” He laughed humorlessly.  “I can’t handle much more of this. Don’t make me move again.”

“Toby, if-”

“Should I just turn myself in? Then will they see I’m innocent?”

“Toby, those vigilantes wouldn’t see common sense if it slapped them in the face,” Alex said, and turned the radio on to prove it.

 “. . . and the police are still searching, after four years! How much longer can this go on? And all for attempted murder on the governor of North Dakota.”

“Well, that was unexpected,” his cohost replied. “I heard before the fiasco, the two were friends.”

“No, they had a school rivalry. Just goes to show you can’t trust anybody.”

Toby reached across the counter and turned it back off. He sighed. “Just one more week here?”

“Yeah,” Alex smiled. “Just one more week.”

My Library Writing Contest Entry- And You Can Help!

So, my library is having a 'Write Stuff' contest, (Enter here)  -It has to contain the phrase "Well, that was unexpected"- and I wrote an entry. This is really just a rough draft, but I wanted you guys to read it and send me feedback. Please, not just "I loved it!" or "It was boring" feedback- I want "I liked it, but maybe change the part where. . ." feedback.

Also, I need a name. Preferably something short, but I want to here all ideas!

Thanks for your help! 

Alex hated being lost. Honestly, he should know his way around, after living here for three years. But nooo. He squeezed through the crowd.

“Excuse me,” an elderly woman called. “Have you seen my grandson? He ran ahead. . .”

“No, sorry.” He moved on. A few streets later, a little boy ran up to him.

“Hey! Hey, have you seen my friend? Toby has brown hair, like me. . .”

“No,” said Alex. Eight more people asked about a Toby on his way home.

“Sir, have you-”

“I’m going to be late. . . let me through, please.” Then, when he made it past a particularly thick group, he saw the street sign. Good- it was only a block from here. Alex quickened his pace.

“Could you keep an eye out. . .”

“Please, he has brown hair and eyes. . .”

“It would just take a moment. . .” They grew more desperate the closer he got. Finally, he made it to the house. Alex sighed in relief, shaking his head, glad to be inside.

“How did it go?”

“Not so well,” Alex admitted to his friend, as he dropped, exhausted, on the couch. “They know you’re staying here. . .but they can’t get a search permit. They’ve resorted to disguises, again.” The boy next to him sighed.

“At least they’re getting desperate. Maybe they’ll give up soon...?”

“Toby,” he said seriously, “they will stop when you’re dead.” Toby moaned.

“I won’t have to move again, will I? I was hoping for a few more weeks, at the least.” Instead of answering, Alex walked to the kitchen.

“Did you eat yet?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Toby grumpily caught the orange Alex tossed. “I liked it here. . . The last place was an apartment, no room at all. The one before that. . . Well, sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” Alex froze, mid-slice, the knife hovering over a loaf of bread. “I mean,” he continued, “there’s only so much a guy can take. Hiding, going from place to place. . . When will it stop? Should I just pack my bags?”

“Well, that was unexpected, Toby-”

“I can’t handle much more of this.”

“Toby, if-”

“Should I just turn myself in? Get it over with?”

“Tobias,” Alex snapped, “you stop there. ‘Is it worth it’? ‘Turn yourself in’? What happened to you? You know what’ll happen,” he said, softly, “If they get the one person who. . . who. . . you can’t give up. All those people. . . you give them hope.” Toby sighed.

“Just one more week?”

“Yeah,” Alex smiled. “Just one more week.”

(The End.)

 

Sketch Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Something glinted as I opened my eyes. Where...? Right, I was kidnapped. Again. Twice in on day was a record I hoped would not be broken. I was in a room, - a living room, maybe- lying on a soft brown couch. My throat was dry, and my lips seemed stuck together. I needed water. So, I sat up to look for some, but my head started spinning. Instead of sitting back down, I waited for the pain to pass before examining the room. The couch was against the yellow wall, on the far side from the door. In front of me was a glass coffee table, and on the other side of that, an identical couch to the one I was sitting on. Nothing else.

Knock, knock. Jim entered the room with a bottle of water and a stack of papers. He sat on the couch and looked me in the eye before placing the water on the table.

“We want to propose something to you.”

“You’re taking me home with an apology? ‘Cuz otherwise, it’s a no.” My voice was a little groggy, so it didn’t sound as annoying and heroic as I wished it did.

“Actually, it’s not. See, to put it bluntly, we wish to hire you-”

“Gee, great way to hire somebody. It warms my heart, each time some jerk kidnaps me.”

“You’d start getting paid properly if you were still working for us at sixteen,” he said, ignoring my comment. “Until then, you would probably get what you’d call special treatment. Pocket money, nice meals, plus gifts on birthdays.”

“I already had that stuff before you came along. Really, that isn’t what I would call ‘special treatment’.”

“Oh, so you’re familiar to having a couple hundred in your pocket?” Jim asked, an amused smirk playing on his features. “In that case, you already have a laptop. Wouldn’t like eating from our buffet either, I reckon.”

“You’re trying to bribe me.”        

“That’s how all business is done.”

“Well, stay out of my business, because it’s not done that way. Besides. Child labor laws- I don’t work for anyone.”

“Katie,” he said, which was creepy, “you know you’d only be drawing. We also have excellent lawyers.”

“I never told you my name.” I cross my arms and glare at him, hoping I looked mature and experienced, instead of a three-year-old not getting their way.

“Fine. We’ll talk again tomorrow,” and he left. Well, good riddance. If I ever see him again, it’ll be too soon. Wait- did he say ‘we’ have a proposal? I doubted it was Kimberly. Didn’t yesterday they said something about ‘they changed the password again’? Maybe something bigger is going on- like a secret underground organization. What did Jim say about Drew? If we need him? This could be a trap. Drew needs to know about the possible trap, the possible plot, he needs to know the password- Argh! I hate being unable to talk to him. I drink some of the water Jim left on the table.

I need a second opinion on this. Otherwise, I’ll overthink myself to death. That’s it: I’m overthinking everything. There isn’t any plot- the ‘we’ is probably just Jim and Kimberly. Who else could it be? Jim is probably just some rich guy trying to get richer. Maybe I haven’t been careful enough, and he pieced a few things together. Then he assumed my powers were cooler than Drew’s. For some reason, people often do that. Usually, one of the last things they assume about him. He comes back quick.

A trap? Please, this isn’t a movie. What was I thinking? Except, I’m a superhero, and they’re only supposed to exist in movies. . . But I’m not some fiction film. I am Katie Rien, and I’m going to make this Jim-guy wish he never thought about using me.

---

Three days. That’s how long it’s been since I last saw Drew, or dad or anybody- three whole days. And they’ve been exceedingly boring days, too. Each morning Jim would try to hire me, I’d decline, and have the rest of the day to run out of things to think about. The door is always locked. The windows are too high for me to look out of, even if I push the couch over, and I’m not especially short. I must be in a basement, because where else would you install windows like that?

Knock, knock. Why...? Jim had already come this morning. It couldn’t be Drew, could it? If it is, he certainly took his time, since he had seeking-powers.

 Nope. It’s Jim.

“I told you, you can’t hire me.”

“Exactly. So, we’re going to force you instead.” My heart dropped down somewhere around my shoes, and it started pattering quickly.

“Y-you can’t. You don’t have anything-”

“How about anyone?”

“Who?” A single word. The only thing that mattered- who.

“She cares. How touching. Maybe he would survive if you’d accepted the job.”

“Tell me who you villain!”

“After you help.” He could be bluffing. I hadn’t been shown any proof. But what if he wasn’t bluffing? If Drew was really being held captive. . . If they were going- going to- Maybe, it was somebody else. But I couldn’t let them hurt some innocent kid- Or was it Dad? Neither would want me to accept. . . but I couldn’t stand it if- if they. . .

“I’ll do it.”