I want to write a beautiful story in an aged-looking notebook, in a fine flowing script. I want to draw the characters in the margin and feel them flow out of my pen.

Just thinking about it is therapeutic.

This is the first part of my story I'm working on - it's a World of Warcraft story, centered on a town in the Eastern Plaguelands called Darrowshire. There's a nice little bit of lore surrounding it - a sad little place.

WARNING: THIS PART IS EXTREMELY GORY. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the various Warcraft entities. (i.e. Joseph Redpath, Marduk Blackpool, etc.) I own the main character - protagonist - and that is all.

IF THIS WERE A MOVIE IT WOULD BE  RATED R BECAUSE OF THIS SCENE.

vvvv STORY vvvv

Plink, plonk. Plink, plunk. Neverendingly the sound continued, thudding against the roofs of the town. The sky gaped, an open, bleeding wound uncovered by the thick clouds. Macabre red and black warred in the sky, smoke mingling into the billows that crept and crawled like masses of writhing parasites. No sun was visible - only murky, blood-colored fog looked down upon the roads of eastern Lordaeron. Roads that were, themselves, covered in sanguine gore.

Thin, pale hands - nearly skeletal in their transparency - trembled in their cocoon of rough cloth. The surprisingly long fingers flexed and toyed with the fabric. Quiet, pale blue eyes closed and opened as screams, long and screeching, pierced the air in a cacophony of horror and pain. Tears crept from those eyes as the slight form of a young girl curled up closer to herself in its confined space - shut in for her safety.

Outside, shambling, drooling ghouls ripped at human flesh - blood pouring from the wounds they tore with their broken teeth and decorating the mouths and hands of the creatures - giving the mortal bodies a final blanket of crimson. Tears poured from the eyes of one heavily pregnant woman fading from life as she reached for her husband's corpse - a limp body with its side missing that yet moved, his wife's flesh in his maw. A dying man swung his shovel into the head of one of the fiends, cutting it down before his throat and cheek were ripped from his body with a meaty swish, followed by a scream.

A priest staggered outside a chapel, glowing bursts of light flickering from his hands and smiting the abominations as they ambled about - towards him, the hills - it mattered not where they went. Almost it seemed he would stop the onslaught - hope flickered in the eyes of the dying before they shut in un-final rest. But - a mounted figure approached and dismounted - the priest fell...and rose again at the man's command, eyes blank and shallow.

A moment of silence cleared the air as the priest shambled into the chapel - followed by a small horde - and then, ear splitting cries of sadness and disgusted panic cracked the air as another group of villagers met the end of their current life. Another moment of screams followed by silence, and then the horde sauntered out the door of the chapel, increased in number and in blood spilt. As the mob rambled through the town, it grew in number as torn, bloody cadavers - still warm from their slaughter - rose from their raw graves and shuffled after the throng.

Another figure strode through the town square, evil emanating from his familiar form. He glanced about, smiling at the carnage - his eyes stopped on one house and narrowed. Walking closer, he saw the form of a plump, plain woman shambling after the others and moaning, adding to the eerie chorus of lifeless cries that rose from the town. Behind her, he saw a limp, tiny form - with carrot-colored braids that had been not slightly spattered with blood. A little bottle lay not far away, a dribble of black liquid pooled beneath its mouth.

He turned and walked away, following the mounted man that led the hordes - pausing as they left the perimeter of the village, glancing back at the clustering of houses. Tiny, homely abodes, previously safe and warm - now cold, empty and covered in residual gore. Something like emotion stirred in his eyes as he looked - but it died quickly, stamped out by some other power. He marched on, his sturdy armor clinking against itself as he passed the bodies of his men - the valiant men he had slaughtered, for the glory of the Lich King.

I'm sitting here, fuddling around, and I check my bookmarks. I see a link to a site I bookmarked a LONG time ago because they had awesome Xena costumes. That starts me thinking about Xena and how much I loved it when I was little. I go and watch an episode online - and realize that some things are better left to memory.

The national competition is in South Carolina at Bob Jones University.

My dad won't let me go.

Today was wonderful - I am so very blessed by God. I have a wonderful family, a wonderful boyfriend, loony, lovable friends, and most of all....love. Thank you God, for blessing me so and loving me.

Today was also extremely exhilarating. See, a little while back, I wrote a poem for Fine Arts. Fine Arts is a statewide competition for, well, the fine arts. The subject this year was children - that's what we wrote about. I wrote a poem I titled Childhood Reverie. It was about a child's day - all the things that life revolves about when you are tiny. I didn't think it was particularly good....but the judges did.

I won first place in the state.

They want me to go to the national competition.

I almost peed my pants, I was so excited. :D This is...was...whatever, it's GREAT. I love writing, and knowing that I'm good at it - that there is some merit to my ramblings - it's so fulfilling. I love it - I just...wow.

Feelings are hard to convey through text...but. I WANT YOU...to imagine something. I'm sure you have a talent. Take that talent - you've entered a competition, or your hard work has paid off and you've been noticed. Either way, you're going to get quite a bit of notice.

And everybody that discounted you is looking the other way, because they were wrong.

Isn't that an exhilarating feeling?

Thank you, God.

~Britt

I suppose that in this entry, as it is the first, I should make some sort of introduction. Very well.

My name is Brittany. Feel privileged you know this much - many do not. I am a Junior in high school. I love writing, reading, and drawing. Also, I love God, my family, cats, and my boyfriend. In that order.

Hereby I shall strive to use this as a nice little blog, regularly updated and kept in order. I shall start now, by cataloging the day's events.

This morning was as usual - hard to wake up, since under my covers, twas warm. I shall say nothing other than this was a stark difference from the outside of the covers.

I got to school - this morning's achievement test was math. Ah, math, my one true bane. Sometimes, I think it is not so bad. Then, it strikes, uncoiling a lengthy equation to boggle my mind. I do think I did better on that section this year than I have in years past.

Then, after the lengthy section was concluded, I and the other two (yes, two. there are 3 people in my class, including myself.) in my class went to the cafeteria to fetch the waffles we were selling for breakfast. Once again, I shall leave it at that it was amusing.

The other girl (Amy) had strawberries and whipped cream for the waffles. This spawned a joke later.

First period - uneventful, save for the....interesting attempts at recitation of a poem (English class)
Second period - funny, due to jokes about the 'commode'. This beggars more explanation:

Second period is my Spanish class. Today, we were taught new vocabulary words. The word for 'comfortable' in Spanish is 'comodo(a)'. This is what spawned the commode jokes. Here, the commode is a name for the toilet.

Third period - had to desert Forensics to go take an Algebra quiz I missed. :x (Forensics)

Lunch - hilarious. need I say more?

Fifth period - someone was almost pushed out the window. (Consumer Math)

Sixth - We're currently studying competition, and therefore, monopolies. This period was interspersed with requests to play Monopoly. Many came from me. (Economics)

Seventh - We read. And made Hillary Clinton jokes. (American History)

Drama - dramatic, of course.

Such is the sum of my schoolday. More on the jokes later - and about my home life.

~Britt

Edit: Also, I disapprove of those gaudy ads. Nasty.