Monday's Minutes Challenge

This week I am going to do the object prompt and sentence prompt. :) I'm really sorry for the lack of posting, and hope to catch up very, VERY soon :)

OBJECT PROMPT: piano, rose, necklace 

SENTENCE PROMPT: I jumped at the sound of a door slamming downstairs. Where could I hide?

Hope ya'll enjoy!! :D ::

I fingered my necklace. The rest of the girls laid in their beds already fast asleep. Why couldn’t I fall asleep too?

I sighed and rolled on to my side.

Lydia’s red rose was on the floor again. I rolled my eyes and set it back on her nightstand.

I finally decided to get up and go to the bathroom. I hurried through and was near the stairs when I came out.

I jumped at the sound of a door slamming downstairs. Where could I hide? 

It was them. Who else would come here at this time? I looked up and down the hall. Ms. Smith would still be sleeping.

I heard their boots.

Their boots clumping all around downstairs.

I heard a crack. A loud one. Too loud. The piano. I needed to go somewhere now.

Grasping my necklace, I raced down the hallway to Ms. Smith’s room. Their boots chasing me.

Once I was in her room, I slammed the door without a second thought and locked it. Then backed towards the wall.

Ms. Smith was still sleeping.

But there was no time to wake her when the door was being tried to open.

I grasped my necklace harder, cutting through my skin. I wasn’t going to fail Grandma.

The ax blade went through the door. Ohmygoodness. It was all going to end there.

I slid against the wall to the floor.

It was too late, I was going to fail Grandma.

I saw the ax blade slide through the door again.

Breathing hard, I knew what I had to do, even if it was a risk.

I jerked the necklace, the chain broke immediately. I threw it when they burst into the room.

“Where is it?”

“I-I don’t know.”

And the next thing I knew was darkness

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And this has nothing to do with Slaved ;) lol

It's exactly three hundred words long :) Hope ya'll like it!!

abrielle lindsay

#that'swhoiam

I saw someone do something like this and I always think they're fun so I was just going to do one. An di am going to get those other posts up soon! :)

Gonna stop now. :) Hope ya'll liked this!! :)

abrielle lindsay

Monday's Minutes Challenge

Hiiii. Yes I am a bit behind on the August Blogging Challenge (and I'll try to catch up, I PROMISE) and I haven't posted about my weekend yet (still waiting on those pictures...). BUT I FOUND 1 GIRL NATION!! They are like the next best thing (right after Christina Grimmie...)

ANNNYWAY, MMC :)

This week I am going to use the picture prompt:

My entry:

Glancing over my shoulder, the slaves scraped the dirt into blucks with their bare fingers.

My work was easy, because Papa was dead. But why did anyone have to do any work at all?

Papa used to say that when he was a boy, all of the Americans were free.

Everyone could do what they wanted.

He said that 2135 was a bad year.

I wish I could have been alive to taste freedom.

Facing my palm, I read the mark. SLAVE was under a bunch of lines. Papa said it was like a grocery label, whatever that was.

I sighed.

I was marked.

It was impossible for me to escape.

Everyone looks for the mark. It’s just what happens.

You can’t enter the war with the mark.

America’s army was shrinking, and I couldn’t help them.

I glanced over my shoulder again. I saw the Korean master hollering at a little boy. Maybe five years old?

I stopped the bluck and tried to listen.

“You little idiot! You know not to do that! Dig! Get up!” He pulled out his stick.

I winced when he pushed the button and the metal ropes spilled from the top with sharp, broken glass.

And he started to beat the boy.

I dropped the bluck’s remote and struggled over to the beating session.

Jumping in front of the whip, I clenched the boy to my stomach.

It stung.

It hurt.

But I swallowed my pain and stayed.

The master stopped and cursed in Korean.

He shouted at me to move, but I stayed on my knees, hugging the child to my stomach—ready for more lashes.

After more shouts, He whipped me more. The child beneath me sobbed. My jaw was clenched, I tried to talk to the boy, but it was impossible.

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As you probably guessed, yes, it's from Slaved. Like actually. I revised it a little to make this scene fit within the 300 word mark (and it's exactly 300 words). I somehow managed to cut a whole ten words (it was actually probably more because I added a lot...) Anyway. I hope you like it! :)

abrielle lindsay

August Blog Challenge: Day Two

I forgot to do this yesterday, and the day before that. So I'll do it today. Oh yes, and something ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR IS HAPPENING THIS WEEKEND, but I won't let you guys find out until I post pictures Sorry ;) (no spoils mary)

DAY TWO

WHAT DO YOU LOVE ABOUT YOURSELF?

OHMYGOSH, do I really have to do that? (maybe this is why I haven't been doing it...) What i love about myself.... I love that I help in nursery and enjoy it so much. I don't really know what to put. I'm like literally clueless

So, I hope you enjoyed this post of my awkwardness. :)

Today we are leaving for NC/SC :D

abrielle lindsay

Beautiful People--Anaya

I admit, I FORGOT TO DO IT LAST MONTH. I'M SORRY. But last month was sorta' busy for us (leaving TX, in OK for a week, family, braces, ear pircing, birthdays, etc.) 
This month I will be interviewing Anaya from Slaved. ^.^ Hope you enjoy! :)

1) What does your character regret the most in their life?
Anaya probably regrets most that she didn't try again to get in the way of her Dad's death.

2) What is your character's happiest memory? Most sorrowful memory?
Happiest memories would just be any time with her dad. Saddest would be her dad's death.

3) What majorly gets on your character’s nerves?
Slavery is always on her mind and always gets on her nerves

4) Do they act differently when they're around people as opposed to being alone? If so, how?
Nope, not really

5) What are their beliefs and superstitions? (Examples: their religion or lack of one, conspiracy theories, throwing salt, fear of black cats.)

Her dad always taught her to bless the food before she ate. And to never curse God. Don't lie. But she doesn't have a relationship with Him. (that might change during the book ;) )

6) What are their catchphrases, or things they say frequently?
What she says most often is: Prove them wrong. It was the last words of her Dad, he told her to prove all of the slave masters wrong. :)

7) Would they be more prone to facing fears or running from them?

Eh, I think during this first draft it's a more of a facing fears kind of thing. But it may change during draft two ;)

8) Do they have a good self image?
*nods* Yep

9) Do they turn to people when they're upset, or do they isolate themselves?
This is kind of hard, when she had her Dad, she turned to him. When he was gone, she isolated herself. Now that she has the Rebels sometimes she isolates herself or turns to Jacinda.

10) If they were standing next to you would it make you laugh or cry?
I would honestly probably cry. She'd been a slave. She is scarred for trying to escape. For getting beat instead of others. She would have had a hard life. You know it might be hard for me to NOT cry

Ok so here is my Beautiful People for this month! :) It was fun! :D And kind of hard. Hope you enjoyed! And if you want to join, click here!

abrielle lindsay

August Blog Challenge: Day One

So I forgot to announce that I was doing this :/ But I am and I hope you enjoy getting to know me and some other things about my life

DAY ONE:

A BRIEF INTRODUCTION TO YOURSELF

The most important thing to me is God and my relationship with Him. I'm a writer, hoping to become an author someday. ;) I play soccer like a freak. I'm honestly no good at it, though some will tell me I am. (The boys say I can't aim, it's not me, it's my foot.) Reading is something I absolutely will never get enough of. Pinterest too. ;) I'm a TCK (Third Culture Kid), speaking Indoglish (Indonesian & English). Mary would say that I am literally obsessed with Christina Grimmie, but the truth is, I am. My bucket list just gets longer and longer, true. I'll never be able to finish it. And if I do, that would be really cool. x) 

So that's me. Well, sorta' there's more to me. But you know, here's some of what I like and who I am. x) 

I am doing this challenge with my friends WildHorse and Brooke. :) If you want to join, you're very welcome to! :)

I'll be back tomorrow x) oh wait, never mind. I might be here on Monday... 

abrielle lindsay

Monday's Minutes Challenge

Yes, I'm two days late (but I'm not the only one, Mary) but anyway, let me blame it on the braces, ok? :) (Which by the way I now have)

(really bad picture, I know, but here's the braces, a better picture will be posted *maybe* later today)

I am doing the picture prompt today:

My story:

I sat up after being curled in a ball for eternity’s time. I wouldn’t—I couldn’t look at the last paper boat I made in honor of him.

It took a couple minutes longer for me to actually believe he’s actually dead. He had died for me.

The scene played again in my mind.

The gun faces me, the man’s finger on the trigger.

I watch, stone still, as he starts to pull it.

“No!” Jeremy runs up and jumps in front of the gun.

 I’m eighteen, but I scream anyway.

Jeremy fell to the ground, blood making a dirty red hole in his ash grey shirt.

The man shrugs and starts to walk away, “Either way you learn a lesson to never mess with folks above your status.”

I want to run and turn the gun on him. But I choose to kneel at my brother’s side, isn’t that what a solider should do?

“Timothy,” Jeremy gasps for air.

“I’m right here,” I whisper.

“Anaya is the one you should thank for your life, not me.” Jeremy breathes slowly, I can see that each breath is a war and he’s not winning anymore.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“She’s the one who rescued you, not me. I’ve lied.” And then he goes stiff.

He’s gone.

The shock of both death and who brought me “home” are too much at one time. I sob.

I fall on my brother’s body and sob. My own screams shake the stillness.

My screams at God. My screams at the earth. My screams to the very man that killed him.

I would lay, curled in that puddle for hours.

But now I stand in front of Anaya and Jeremy’s graves, the other Rebels lined next to them.

“Thank you, Anaya, for rescuing me.”

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These scenes are exactly 300 words long.

This was a very special MMC for me to do because the characters are from Slaved (as I recently talked about). It is about six years after the story ended. I kind of hate me for killing Jeremy, but at the very end all of the Rebels are dead, so it's not just Jeremy. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little death scene as much as I did not. ;)

abrielle lindsay

Scribbler Award

This is an award that my friend, WildHorse, made and it started out at Ravens and Writing Desks. :) Hope you guys enjoy this!

Rules:

Link to the person who nominated you.

Link to your favourite writing blog, so we can check it out, and/or share your favourite writing tip. 

Pass the award along to a maximum of 5 people.

My favorite writing blog is Go Teen Writers, as you guys have often heard me say. ;)

And my favorite writing tip is "dropping the reader in late, and taking them out early." You can learn more about it here

I would like to pass the award onto:

Elisabeth Sullivan

Tessa Emily Hall

Sarah 

Bekah

and

Britt

:)

Hope you guys enjoyed!

(and I SWEAR I'll do these other awards/tags A.S.A.P.!!!!)

abrielle lindsay

SLAVED

Hey guys, it's been ahwile, I know. I need to post Texas pictures and somemore Oklahoma picutres and a lot of other things. But I'll just give a little update..

I AM GETTING BRACES
I AM GETTING MY HAIR CUT
I TURN 13 IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS

Yeah, so I'm going to turn into like a completely different person in the next week. Exciting, yeah?

So this week I'm participating in Go Teen Writers' Word War YAY and I'm writing my novel that currently going by Slaved, so if I start talking about Slaved and you're like WHAT...?!? Explanation here :)

So below is my cover that the wonderful Britt made me and the book cover blurb (very much in the making), oh and a link to the board on Pinterest.

America isn't the land of the free and home of the brave anymore.

The world suffers through World War 3, but none more than America. If you aren’t in the war, you’re a slave. And slowly the America is being blown up bit by bit.

None are free, some dream of it, some remember it, some try to reach it. Just like the white headed fifteen year old who lives with scars from trying to escape.

When she makes it away from her master at that age, she’s on the run. But she’s marked on her palm. The number is clear.

And once she’s caught, life will be over.

She knows that everyone deserves freedom. And she’s going to turn the whole world upside down if she has to so that everyone can see that.

But can one frightful white head slave do it?

And the link to Pinterest: SLAVED

Oh and yes, I'm on Pinterest with MY VERY OWN ACCOUNT. :)

Love you guys!! :D

abrielle lindsay

Oklahoma

Here are a few pictures from our Oklahoma visit thus far from my iPod :) hope you enjoy them!!! And btw my baby brother put the tiara on by himself ;)