"BANG!" Shut my bedroom door, my room is cold and I can hear squeals of childish laughter coming from the living room. 8:00 at night. I have half an hour all to myself before lights out. I plonk myself down on my desk chair. Lifting the lid off the desk I pull out my note book and a leaky blue pen. I turn to a blank page, write in the date and I begin to write.
I stop writing. I chew on the end of my pen and blow a piece of stray hair out of my eyes. "What to write next?" I think.
-I got up early this morning, ate my breakfast, read for a good hour or two, then I thought it was such a beautiful morning I decided to go walking.
I enjoy taking walks around the yard of an early morning it wakes me up and today was especially pretty!
I walked around to Willow Lake. The magpies were beginning to sing. It was lovely. I looked up at the clouds which had formed into large puffs and I found my self calling them "moonshine" again. I know it was childish but they really did look like white puffs of moonshine.
Toward the end of my walk I lifted my eyes up to the sky and smiled. I felt so free out there. But I was being called inside so I had to leave the beauty of the morning. I hope I get another chance to go for a walk again soon!
A tap the pen on my teeth, shut my diary, climb into bed and read. The minutes tick away slowly. I am seeing the words printed on the paper but I am not reading them, my mind is wandering. All of the sudden I have an amazing idea just pop into my head-I need to write it down.
The bed covers fly back, my book is set aside, I rush to my desk pull out my diary and begin writing feverishly.
Ideas For Book:
Story: About young women who is thrown out of her village and runs away to find a new life
Where story is set: The Middle ages.
Star character: Maria Charslouski. (Char-sl-ow-ski)
Story type: Adventure
I sit back and begin thinking. The end of my pen has chew marks on it.
(Middle of story)
-When I was naught but seventeen, my father betrothed me to a rich Duke. His name does not matter, for he was twenty years older then I and no better then a dirty, slobbering pig but he was also rich, and my father commanded me to marry him. I remember standing at the alter, my small hand swallowed up inside the Dukes . The time came for me to say my vowels, I was close to tears, I did not wish to marry this man but the piercing look in his eyes scared me so I quietly whispered "I do."
I did not stop, the words seemed to flow from my pen automatically. I lost track of the time. My father softly knocks on the door. "Lights out Briony." I sigh, lay down my pen, give on quick glance at what I had written and climbed into bed.
As I lie there in the semi-darkness, I remember something one of my parents friends said to me not to long ago. I remember telling them how much I love writing and that whenever I sit down with paper and a pencil the words just come. Then he said to me "Must be a gift." Yeah, a gift. That sounds pretty cool. God gave me a gift to write and write well...and so I write.