HANNAH BROWN – acrostic poem

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HANNAH BROWN - acrostic poem

Wordcount: 90
If you can’t guess the prompt for this one…well… I’m not saying anything.

~

HANNAH BROWN

H is for happy, laughing aloud

A is for actions, fighting the crowd

N is for natural, no masks anywhere

N is for nervous, of the foes I bear

A is for angels, the ones up above

H is for home, the place I love

B is for brown, my hair colour too

R is for random; such a hullabaloo!

O is for opposite to what they say

W is for wondering the days away

N is for nicely finding my place; eventually, I hope, whilst the clouds I chase.

~

As always, feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading! 🙂 

Hiatus

Hi guys,

It saddens me to say this, but I think I may have to go onto a hiatus whilst my exams are on. They have not started yet, but when they do, I’ll only be able to post my WWC, and maybe a book review on Tuesdays (because I don’t have enough already written to last that long!). I’m really really sorry, but these are my actual GCSEs (already had two sets of mocks) and I don’t want to fail them…no offence.

So yeah. I’m really sorry. I’d be grateful if you didn’t unfollow, too, because I’ll be back, I promise!

And I’ll still be able to reply to comments, etc, so yeah.

Thanks for sticking by me, and I’m sorry to have to do this!

(Also, I didn’t post on Friday because my internet wasn’t working, and Saturday because I went to Thorpe Park!)

– Hannah 🙂

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

The Man I Love {Short Story}

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The Man I Love

Wordcount: 474
Prompt: using the 7th sentence on the 7th page of the 7th book on your bookshelf, write a story with 7 paragraphs.
My book was The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum.

~

The Man I Love

~

There were lovely patches of greensward all about, with stately trees baring rich and luscious fruit. A grand country house stood in front of me, hidden behind a line of potted bushes. I took a few steps forward, and rested my hand on one of the thin, pale trunks that was nearby. This was to be my home from when I wed my betrothed, Samuel, tomorrow morning.

I could hardly complain about my new place of living. It was magnificent, and I could ride every day, even bringing my horse, Sapphire’s Sky, with me. The library was glorious, filled with thousands of books, most of which I had not read. Samuel had different likings to mine. The grounds were beautiful, containing hundreds of flowers, including different colours of tulips: my favourite. Fountains lay in the main courtyard, and there was a lake in which fish swam and ducks floated on the surface. Yes, I was looking forward to living in this grand place.

However, it was a long way from my home town. Nearly two hundred miles, in fact. Although my father had originally introduced me to Samuel at a ball, it was my own choice to marry him; but it didn’t change the fact that I would be moving away the place I had grown up in, leaving my sick mother behind. She had cried dearly when I had told her I was to be wed, despite the fact I had promised I would return to visit.

I ran my hands down the knotted trunk. An earwig crawled out of one of the holes, and I took my hand away. It did not repel me, but I did not wish for it to be clambering all over me, either. Instead, I reached up and plucked a ripe apple from the tree, biting into it and letting the juices flow past my lips and to my chin.

“Would you like a handkerchief?” Behind me, Samuel’s deep voice made me jump. I laughed and nodded, my mouth too full to speak. His eyes crinkled at the sides as he watched me lean forward, keen for no juices to spill onto my dress. It would stain it dreadfully. “Here.” He leant forward and mopped up my chin. I smiled at him; his brown eyes were warm and friendly.

“Thank you,” I said, taking another bite from the fruit. Samuel tutted and cleaned my chin again, taking the apple out of my hand. He bit into it himself.

“I trust you are happy here?” he asked, once he had swallowed his mouthful. I nodded in reply, and threaded my arm through his as we walked up the steps to the house. I may miss my mother terribly, but I was with the man I loved, and that was the happiest thing I could imagine.

~

As always, feedback is appreciated!
Thanks for reading! 😀 

A Brighter Fear by Kerry Drewery

A Brighter Fear by Kerry Drewery

A Brighter Fear

An impossible love story set against the backdrop of the Iraq war, A Brighter Fear will appeal to everyone who loved a gathering light.

This debut novel is the story of Lina, a teenage girl from Baghdad, and it starts as the bombs fall in 2003. It is a love story: for a country, and for a person too. There is an object that is lost, but may yet be found again.

We can’t say much more without giving away what happens in this
beautiful, contemporary fairytale. Suffice it to say that it will break your heart… but then will put it back together again.

A beautiful novel from a new literary star. (Source: GoodReads, although I disagree with the fact that it’s called a love story.)

A Brighter Fear is a story of love, life, fear and hope. I did enjoy it, although it made me terribly angry at war, and how it effects innocent people, like Lina’s mother and father. After finishing it, I just wanted to sit down and cry, for how completely and utterly unfair everything is; and how people can’t see that war is not the answer.

Lina was a truly brave girl, going through losing her family and having to move into a new one – and then having to give up all the money her father had saved to rescue her uncle. Not only that, but Steve left, she wasn’t allowed to continue her education, and she couldn’t even practise her faith.

On the subject of Steve, I did feel that their romance was hyped up on the blurb, and in the front cover, as it was a bit of a whirlwind, and nothing really came of it. Lina even got rid of her contact to him, so she couldn’t find him again. I understand that she hadn’t had much of a chance at romance before, but I didn’t think it was written very well.

Not mentioned above is Lina’s friendship with Layla, who was a Muslim and, effectively, scared of Lina. She stops contacting her, until one Christmas, when she comes over and gives her a present. Their friendship really heightens the fact that these are two teenage girls, scared for their lives because they are friends, and I think that Drewery really portrayed this well. I loved their friendship – they really loved each other, which made it all the more better.

Overall, I would give this 4 stars. There were aspects I liked, such as Lina and Layla’s friendship, but other ones I didn’t so much, such as Lina and Steve’s relationship – I feel that it could have just stayed as friendship, as it felt that the writer was trying to hard. However, a very good read, and I still recommend it!

Frightening Writing

You’ve got all these ideas in your head, but, oh, no! You’re too scared to do anything about it!

Now, I know that this doesn’t apply to many people on here, but don’t worry, other points in this article may do! If not, please read it anyway, because it may help another person you know. 😉

It’s common to be scared of your writing, especially when it’s written – the fear of ‘what now?’ So, what can you do before you start?

  • Ask around, for other writers. They can give you encouragement, helpful hints, and get you through the tough times with writing. Also, they’ll help you improve, and give you the opportunity to say, ‘hey, they can do it – I can do it, too!’
  • Brush up on grammar and spelling. There’s nothing more disheartening when you’ve finished writing and see that it’s covered in errors that you don’t know how to fix. Also, before you start writing, it might help you to know the best way to write.
  • Make sure you have the materials to write. Otherwise, you might be on a roll, and then…you run out of paper/laptop power/ink. You do not want to be doing that, believe me – you might lose your muse! Disaster!

And then, whilst you’re writing: 

  • Just keep writing, don’t stop. There’s no point in stopping, otherwise you might not start again!
  • Don’t look back, don’t edit. You’ll never finish. Once you’re done, you can go back and revise, but not before then!
  • Don’t think about how bad it might be. It’s a first draft, it’s practically compulsory for it to be crap!

Finally, once you’re done: 

  • Edit, edit, edit! Make sure it’s perfect, so you have something to be proud of.
  • Don’t hide it away. Share your writing online, or with friends and family if you’re not ready for strangers to see it.
  • Enter it into..things. Competitions, online writing communities, you know what.
  • Put it online. Don’t be afraid about copyright laws – it’s yours. No one can take it.

Don’t be afraid of writing – it’s a wonderful thing!


And I’m starting a new thing, called ‘random GIF of the week’, so here’s the first!

FIRST RANDOM GIF OF THE WEEK

FIRST RANDOM GIF OF THE WEEK

 

The Ones Up Above {Short Story}

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The Ones Up Above

Wordcount: 1236

Prompt: using some lyrics from ‘Counting Stars’ by OneRepublic, write a story.
Sorry, I don’t know if I’m happy with this one or not…but here. :L

~

 

Their heads lay on the ground, their hands entwined, calloused fingers against smooth ones. Even her orange hair was dimmed by the darkness, but her eyes twinkled in the starlight.

“Did you know,” she said, “it takes about 8.3 minutes for the light of the nearest star to reach us?”

He turned his head and chuckled, used now to her random facts and sayings. “No,” he humoured her, “I didn’t.”

“Liar,” she muttered. “But,” she continued, just as he had opened his mouth to speak, “that’s the Sun. The next nearest star takes about 4.3 years to reach us. We’re basically just looking into the past right now.”

Cal lay in silence, his last thought forgotten, thinking about what Alice had just said. Over the past few weeks he’d been living with her, he felt like he’d known her his entire life. And, although she was being his mother figure after what had happened, she felt more like a friend. Remembering the first time her lips had touched his cheek in love, he felt a smile appear on his face. Cal was pretty sure he fancied guys, but something about Alice made his stomach flip.

He heard her yawn. “Tired?”

“No, I yawn for fun,” came her sarky reply as she wiped her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Cal muttered hoarsely, knowing it was his fault. Nightmares woke him night after night; his screams echoing around the house. The only comfort came from Alice waking him and holding him as he sobbed in her arms.

She squeezed his hand. “For starters, I’ve been way more tired than this before now. Secondly, your nightmares stop my own.” He felt her turn her head to him, and twisted to stare into her emerald-coloured eyes.

“You have nightmares?” His voice croaked, giving away his tone of surprise. She had never seemed to have suffered from lack of sleep before.

She rolled her eyes and huffed. “Cally, of course I have nightmares. After you’ve seen what I’ve seen, well…” She shrugged; as best as she could do when she was lying down, anyway.

“What have you seen?” Alice stared at him for a few seconds, before turning back to the sky.

“When I was seven, my grandmother died. Alzheimer’s.” Her voice betrayed no emotion, but Cal thought that she was probably feeling some. Like her, his own grandmother had passed thanks to the disease, too.

Pointing to the sky, she traced a constellation – the Big Dipper. “I was upset. Naturally, I guess. Anyway, mum told me that the stars were the dead shining their light onto us – a shooting star was a blessing.” Her hand dropped; Cal heard it thump heavily on the grass. “I believed her, at the time.”

“What do you believe now?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, Cally.” Her thumb drew circles on his hand. They fell into a mutual silence, and Cal was scared to speak; it was if Alice was calculating her next words carefully.

“When I was 13,” she said, her voice thick like she was trying not to cry, “my friend Leah sacrificed herself for me. That same night, I saw a shooting star. Oscar told me it was Leah – I was too sick to say anything. To do anything, really.” She laughed darkly. Cal felt her wipe her cheek.

The silence settled again. Cal couldn’t imagine how it must feel, to have a friend do that for you. He realised how cold it was, and Alice pulled him towards her.

“Could you imagine what it would be like to kill someone? Pull a trigger and take their life?” Her voice made him jump, and the bluntness of it, as if killing was a normality, scared him.

When he replied, his voice was barely audible to his own ears, but she heard it: “No.”

“I can.” She slid her arm underneath his head, and he rested on her chest. His hand on her stomach felt it rising and falling; he could see his breath when he exhaled. “The first time I took a life, I was 9. It was an assassin, in Italy.”

She was beginning to scare him. Alice seemed to feel nothing on her conscience about killing a man. Whereas, if it were Cal, he thought he would still be feeling a heavy guilt, even six years later.

“It was the wrong thing to do. We could have just arrested them, sentenced them to life in jail. The death we gave them was too fast for what they had done – what they were going to do. They’d been hired to kill this guy’s wife and kid. Don’t worry,” she reassured him, although he didn’t want to be reassured. “We got that guy, too.

“But you know, Cal, it felt like it was the completely right thing to do. How can the wrong thing be so right? And then, now, we sit in an office and send out commands, to people fighting in other wars around the world, we practically sentence them to death!” Her voice rose an octave, and he prayed that she wouldn’t be crying, even though he understood how unfair it was.

Her hand found his hair, her fingers tangling in his curls. “People tell me that that’s the right thing to do. I’m the ‘soldier of the century’, but I have to keep myself alive, send other people to die for me. How can the supposed right thing feel so wrong?”

Speechless, Cal just lay on her chest. He wondered how she kept going, day in, day out, laughing, joking, comforting him at night – when she was living in her own personal hell.

“I want to fight, Cal.” Her voice sounded so longing, so broken that Cal wanted to cry. He knew that what she really meant was ‘I don’t want people to die for me – I want to die for me’. She coughed, and continued: “Oscar thinks I’m mad. Scott would rather go in for me. But here, I just train and train and train – I don’t get to go into the field, they’re so scared of me getting killed, and they don’t seem to understand that going out to fight is what I want to do. It makes me feel alive, you know – about to be getting killed.” She laughed. “Oh, the irony.”

After a few moments, he heard her sigh. “Imagine if none of this had happened. If I wasn’t who I was. We’d just be normal kids in school, not having to do any of this stuff.”

Their hands tangled, waving in the air. “’Normal kids’,” he scoffed. “Screw normal, I have you.”

Alice fell silent – only for a moment. “I can’t tell whether I should feel offended or not.”

Cal sat up, twisting so he leant over her with his elbow resting on one side of her head, his weight on her chest. He stroked her hair back from her forehead. Her eyes seemed sad, like they had a wasted hope behind them. “Of course you shouldn’t feel offended,” he whispered, “you’re perfect. I would have no one else to stand by me.”

Chuckling, she mussed up his hair. “You’re so adorable, Cally.”

He stared at her blankly, and said, dryly, “Thanks.”

“Pleasure,” she grinned, pulling him down for a cuddle.

~

As always, feedback is appreciated! Thanks for reading

 

The Liebster Blog Award

First of all – apologies for not posting, I had no internet, then a bit of a hard time trying out new contact lenses. Sorry!

Anyway, Paper, Pen and No Plan sort of nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award (sort of = she nominated all of her readers). And because I thought it would be a fun thing to do, I decided to do it! XD

 

So, 11 random facts about myself:

  1. According to old school reports, I have been writing for about a decade.
  2. I, hopefully, am just about to start wearing contact lenses. 😀
  3. I love Teen Wolf, an American TV show. Peter Hale is my favourite character, and I am currently writing a long fic about it.
  4. When I’m older, I’d really like to travel the world.
  5. I want to write for a living, journalism, screenplay, short stories, hell, even books! I don’t mind, as long as I’m writing.
  6. I’d love to be an artist, and I’m trying really hard with my drawing. :3
  7. 7 and 13 are my lucky numbers. Especially 713!
  8. If there was a competition for procrastination, I would win. I’m doing this instead of writing!
  9. My new TV love is Death in Paradise.
  10. For me, nothing is better than a walk with my dog.
  11. Mum always goes against it, but I really don’t think I’m a very interesting person – as you can probably see from these random facts!

And here are the 11 questions, with answers (obviously): 

  1. What book has most inspired your writing?
    Hmm, I don’t know… As a kid, I really loved Mallory Towers, so I guess that got me reading. I remember really wanting to be like JK Rowling…so Harry Potter? A lot of books have inspired me, though, I get different aspects from different books – for example, Rick Riordan makes me want to put more humour into my work.
  2. How do you arrange the books on your bookshelf? 
    Brilliant question. My bottom shelf is big books, mainly reference and picture books (I may be 15, but I still love picture books ok?). One up from that has my Harry Potter books, Doctor Who books and two Merlin books. Up from that has fictional horse books, and reference books, like ‘The Boys’ Handbook’. Yes, I’m a girl. And then, the top three are fiction books, in no particular order yet, although I have series books grouped together, like Sherlock Holmes books etc.
  3. Do you have a writing playlist?
    Not yet, but I have various songs for different characters. I might get one in the future.
  4. Which holidays are your least favourite? 
    Ones where I am expected to do things I don’t want to do. Like revise, which is what I should be doing right now.
  5. Do you use outlines while writing?
    I don’t normally, but I am for my latest novel. For short stories, I tend to just write and hope. I normally have a basic idea of where I want the story to go, though.
  6. What would your ideal writing desk look like?
    Ooh, paper tucked in the corners, but a space big enough for my laptop. Gloves on the side. Maybe a few ornaments, pictures, a music player…
  7. If you could have a superpower, what would it be? Why?
    Being able to stay awake would be a good one, because there aren’t enough hours in the day. Or ability to move things with my mind, so I can say ‘Accio X’ and it would actually come to me. Or reading thoughts (telekinesis?), cause that would just be cool.
  8. Do you have a theme song?
    Um, I don’t think so… if I did, it would probably be the Benny and Hill theme tune or something.
  9. How do you come up with the titles for your work? 
    Badly.
    I don’t know really. Just think up something, it comes randomly.
  10. Have you picked out the actors who would play your characters in a movie version of your book?
    Haha, no, not yet, but I am planning on it! I have actors who I would want to be in the film, but whether or not they’d fit remains to be seen.
  11. Which is better, the book or the movie?
    I have a feeling that this is a trick question, but for me, it depends on what it is. 😉

Nominations! I don’t know if I follow 11 writing blogs, but here are the ones I could get (I have 10, can that count? I nominate readers, too!). And, can I also point out, most of these people have over 200 followers…sorry, but I tend to break the rules:

And here is the list of questions, should you choose to accept them…

  1. How long have you been writing?
  2. What is your favourite thing to do in your spare time (besides read and write!)?
  3. Favourite piece of life advice?
  4. What is your biggest fear? Have you ever tried to overcome it?
  5. How do you find inspiration?
  6. If you could pick any person to be banned from this planet, who would it be?
  7. What are your lucky numbers, and how much significance to they hold for you?
  8. If you could pick any spacey thing and name it, what would it be and what would you name it (eg: Comet – Hayley’s)?
  9. What’s your favourite word?
  10. How many nuns could a nunchuck chuck if a nunchuck could chuck nuns? Alternative: How many bears could Bear Grylls grill, if Bear Grylls could grill bears?
  11. If you stumbled upon some fanfiction of a piece of your work, would you read it?

Thanks for reading, guys! 🙂

U Wot M8

AKA: How to Create Realistic Dialogue

Listen to the nearest conversation to you. If you’re on your own, play a YouTube video of an actual conversation and listen to that instead.

Now, pick up the nearest book and flick to a bit that includes dialogue. Different? Yes; well, it should be anyway.

Because, you don’t type as you talk; otherwise writing would be like thajgsakdhysakfsdhadkakugfjksaldashifkuljsdaknfbjadifja.

So how do you make it realistic? – when you can’t.

Well, here are some tips:

  • Put in fillers, such as ‘um’ or ‘er’.
  • Some people say the same thing a lot – for example, my cousin says, ‘in fact’ every few sentences, especially when making a point. Just remember which person says what, and don’t make it too obvious/too common.
  • Although most people slur words together, try and spell them correctly. Of course, you can do contractions (eg ‘cannot’ to ‘can’t’ (is ‘contractions’ even the right word?)), but don’t overuse them – for example, ‘shouldn’t have’ instead of ‘shouldn’t’ve’ (although, if you have a character that always speaks that, then go for it!).
  • Make sure character’s differentiate they way they speak. Not everyone speaks in the same way.
  • Read it aloud. See if it sounds right. It doesn’t? Change it!
  • Don’t get too fancy when writing dialogue. People don’t actually speak like that, unless you’re writing from the 1800s.

Oh, and one final tip: remember to use speech marks. People don’t say ‘he said’ after they say something.

Sorry this was posted so late!

Questions, thoughts? Shoot!

– Hannah 😀

Leah {Short Story}

Want to view this story where it’s at? Click here!

Leah

Wordcount: 1055

Prompt: clichés. Pick a cliché phrase and write a story around it.
The cliché I chose was ‘every cloud has a silver lining’.
TW: Friend’s death.

~

Gunshots, blood, running, running, endless running. The 13 year old girl’s heart felt like a drum, banging out a beat that would kill her.

An arm around her back; a word in her ear: “Go.” Cooped up for weeks, her legs struggled to hold her, bones covered with a thin layer of grey skin.

“You can do it, Alice.” His voice was familiar, but seemed far away, unreachable.

They were out of the room. She breathed. Air. Clean, fresh, blisteringly hot air. Her lungs inflated; her ribs hurt. But, still, she kept running.

The sunlight, barely awake, dying on the horizon, burnt her eyes. Her her throat was on fire.

Gunshots. Endless gunshots.

The banging, echoing behind her, hurt her ears. She cupped her hands over them, but they were roughly pulled away by coarse fingertips. “You have to be able to hear.” His voice, a whisper, his lips barely moving, seemed like shouting to her.

“I- I can’t-”

“You can.”

She collapsed.

“Alice!”

Hands grabbed her shoulders and she was hoisted into the air. “Be careful!” a voice called out. A shoulder in her stomach; she couldn’t breathe.

“Down,” she coughed. “Let me down.”

Gently, she was placed on the floor, but they were running again. Sprinting, now, for the end. The gate. Cars, that would take them away from this dreadful place. The place where she had been tortured, made to feel like she wasn’t worth anything, let alone the right to life.

And then she saw her.

“Leah!”

Leah’s face lit up at the sight of her friend; her hand pulled a gun from the holster when she realised they had followers.

Gunshots. Bullets, whistling past her ear.

Machine fire, cutting down people trying to rescue her.

People were dying; because of her. It was her fault.

Bad people had died at her hands. She had held up a gun, pulled the trigger, ended a life, destroyed families, without a second thought. But they had deserved it. Hadn’t they?

This time, however, it was her comrades that were dying. Names, faces, lives, ones who she knew well.

Then, there was Leah.

“Go right!”

“We can’t.”

“You have to!”

Alice’s best friend grabbed her upper-arm, pulling her away from the cars, away from her safe-haven. “Leah, what are you doing?”

The girl glared, and time slowed down. “She won’t survive going that way.” The enemy had looped around, finding another way in to kill her. “Come on!”

Shouting, screaming, crying.

Running, sprinting, surviving.

Gunshots.

Alice ran.

“Keep going!”

“Take her, take her, Oscar.”

“Where are you going?”

A gun, loaded. Ready to kill.

“I’m a distraction.”

And she was gone.

Alice watched her run. She shot. She killed. Men fell at her feet. Her plan worked – they went after the bigger threat, assuming there were others taking on Alice’s protectors.

There weren’t others taking on Alice’s protectors, for Leah had captured them all.

Blood poured over the sand. Dying screams echoed over the still air.

And as Alice watched, whilst she was told to keep running, running, running, Leah fell.

“NO!” Hands grasping at her t-shirt, keeping her from changing course. A heart-wrenching scream. Surely, enough to wake the dead?

Not this time.

~

One year. A year, since she died… for me. The girl, her short red hair barely reaching her eyes, carried the bouquet.

Alone. She didn’t need to run. She walked, slowly, carefully, choosing her steps.

The grave was well-kept, she saw to that. Shadows concealed her movements from Leah’s family as they gathered around the plot. They laid flowers. They cried. Then, they sighed, thankful that, at least, she didn’t die in pain. It had been quick.

They turned, and were gone.

Alice crept forward.

She laid the flowers; traced Leah’s name; sat; cried; wished, with all her heart, that they could change places. That she could be the one six feet under, not her best friend who had had so much to live for.

“Why?” Saliva stuck her lips together, her nose ran and she wiped it on her sleeve. She tasted salt, then a metallic tang. “Why you, Leah? Why not me?”

“She was always willing to die for you.” The voice behind her made her jump, and Alice turned to see a woman in a black dress, an orange flower – Leah’s favourite colour – pinned to her lapel.

Kneeling beside her, she continued: “We always asked why. She said she knew your potential. You could be something great.” More tears fell down Alice’s cheeks. “I think Leah knew she was going to die.”

“Oh?” Her voice cracked, and she coughed. A box was held out to her. Tiny, it fit into the palm of her hand; plain every where else, it was a dark brown; the only decoration was a triskelion embedded on the top.

“This was delivered yesterday morning, a letter said we were to give it to you. Leah must’ve given it to the post office, told them to deliver it a year after her death.”

Surprised, Alice took the box without a word, and the woman stood, her speech clearly over. She turned to walk away, but had only gone a few steps before she turned back and regarded the young, weeping girl, still mourning for her best friend a year later. Her hair was greasy, her thighs too thin, bags under her eyes and chapped lips.

“We don’t blame you,” she said. “Leah was prepared to do it, and I’m proud that it was for such a good cause. You’re going to be great, Alice, just you wait.”

The girl couldn’t speak, but nodded her gratitude. Smiling, Leah’s mother walked away.

Alice opened the box. Inside, there was a small necklace, in the shape of a cloud. Gently, she picked it up. The clasp at the side begged for it to be opened, and she did. A picture, framed by the smooth curves of the clouds, peered up. Two smiling girls, happy in each other’s arms. Fingers shaking, Alice traced the face of her best friend.

Her tears changed to ones of bitter-sweet happiness. Wherever Leah was now, she knew that she was at rest, knew that she was looking down on her. And she knew that, eventually, she would see her again.

~

Feedback appreciated! 😀