tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2296691189835082992024-02-02T01:53:02.974-08:00Cheese BlogWhy's it called Cheese Blog? that is for you to decide.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-77498677343927809802014-03-19T07:49:00.000-07:002014-03-19T07:49:03.026-07:00ATS funding and READATHON II If you aren't familiar with ATS then this post won't make a whole lot of sense to you. In short, it's a genetic connective tissue disorder (that I suffer with) that can lead to aneurysms and other complications with the arteries. As well as this, it can cause hyper mobile joints and chronic fatigue.<br />
To find out more about ATS read the "ATS and stuff" post through the blog archives or go here http://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/geneticmedicine/Clinical_Resources/CTD/ATS%20Overview<br />
<br />
Anyway.<br />
<br />
So recently, Arkansas children's hospital has decided that they want to do a study on ATS, which is awesome! As well as this, the doctors want all of the ATS patients together in America so that they can do tests on us for the study. All of this is possibly the best thing since the guy who invented sliced bread was born, because now we can try to improve the lives of all the kids (and adults) with ATS and give them a chance to live normal lives. I'm lucky. I've never had to have an operation because of my heart condition, and although my life certainly isn't normal, I've got it better than some others like me. Now, we can help those people.<br />
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Of course, this is going to cost money. We have one foundation interested in funding the ATS study, but that isn't going to be enough. We need you! *points at you enthusiastically*<br />
<br />
That's why we're officially starting ATS fundraising. We'll be using Paypal for fundraising, and hosting the donation page on a separate blog like this, named Twist Of Fate. You'll be able to donate with your Paypal account, or with your credit or debit card, quickly and safely on the blog. The link is below. <br />
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We're going to need a lot of funding to make this happen, so if you have any creative fundraising ideas, message me on facebook (Joseph Wills), send a Twitter to me (@Joe_Toe_Wills) or come to my home late and night and scream your requests at my bedroom window (don't do that). Alternatively, you can email me at wills219@btinternet.com, or my mum at caterina.wills@talk21.com, and we'll arrange something. <br />
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Speaking of fundraising, I would like to ANTICLIMACTICALLY ANNOUNCE (ALTHOUGH NOT REALLY BECAUSE I'VE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT IT ON TWITTER) READATHON II: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO!!!<br />
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Yeah, I know, it's really exciting, but there's no reason to be hyperventilating. Here, breathe into this paper bag for a while.<br />
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If you weren't around last year, I'll catch you up: around may, I held a readathon, where I pretty much just read as many books as I could for a weekend in the name of Great Ormond Street Hospital. I consumed around 600 pages in fine reading material, and raised a great amount of money. With last year's success in mind, I'm doing it again this year for ATS. <br />
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When:<br />
Saturday the 5th and Sunday the 6th of April<br />
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Who:<br />
Me, or my doppelganger<br />
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Why:<br />
For ATS fundraising<br />
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What:<br />
As many books from this year's Carnegie Medal shortlist, which you can view here- http://www.carnegiegreenaway.org.uk/carnegie/current_shortlist.php<br />
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How:<br />
Well, I pick up a book and read the words inside.<br />
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I'll talk more about the readathon on facebook, twitter, here, and mostly at the Twist Of Fate (ATS fundraising if something was happening in Coronation Street and you weren't focusing on what I've written above) blog. Keep your eyes physically glued to all of these things at once or face the consequences.<br />
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Thank you very much. Please consider donating or fundraising for ATS!<br />
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You can find the blog here- http://atsfundraising.blogspot.co.uk/<br />
<br />
-The corporeal form most know as "Joe"<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-13986482661784806612014-03-06T09:02:00.005-08:002014-03-06T09:02:58.072-08:00Go And Download Welcome To Night ValeMy intermittent and unstable posting on this deer carcass of a blog that I occasionally reach over and try to resuscitate before getting distracted by some pretty colours or a squirrel or something has got me wondering what I'm going to do. Am I going to start committing myself to posting things regularly? HAHAHAHAHA no, that would be a responsibility and I can't have that, I play DotA. Am I going to pull the plug on the blog forever, accepting that no-one really cares and neither do I and I should just stop trying to bring the deer back to life and give it a nice burial and send it's family flowers, but then I wouldn't be able to indulge in overcomplicated metaphors once every few months. No. I'm going to sit here in the woods with the deer by my side and go about my daily life, occasionally turning round and screaming "I'M NOT LETTING THIS ONE GO" before remembering that I have some nice crisps in my pocket. I'm going to post on special occasions when I have something interesting to say, and you're going to read it and be transfixed at the screen for a few short seconds before you lose interest and look at cat pictures on tumblr, just like old times.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Night Vale.<br />
<br />
I thought that Welcome To Night Vale was something that only <i>I </i>knew about at first. It popped up on the podcasts app on my iphone while I was on holiday last year and I had no idea what it was, so I downloaded a few episodes to listen to. On the beach the next day I decided to listen to the first episode. "A friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead while we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale." The narrator intoned, talking in a voice that seemed almost like he was chanting. I was instantly scared and amused and intrigued, loath as I am to use that word. <br />
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What followed was twenty minutes of this creepy dude talking about angels and a dog park that no one looks at and hooded figures and there were helicopters and everyone is in love with this Carlos and <i>why is the weather a song </i>and more weirdness and creepiness. It was an announcement of something seemingly normal, followed by a buildup as the story became weirder and weirder until the final, often terrifying climax of the segment, followed by the same thing again, all narrated by a completely calm radio host who acts as if everything going on is just a normal day's news. When it finished, I listened to the next one. And the next.<br />
<br />
So what is Welcome To Night Vale? It's a bi-monthly podcast that takes the form of fake community updates for the fictional titular town, in which there are angels, hooded figures, a sheriff's secret police, a scientist with perfect hair called Carlos, an (apparently) underground civilisation under the local bowling alley and fun complex, and other stuff. It's mainly surrealist comedy mixed with genuinely scary horror, urban fantasy, philosophy, as well as a recurring cast of characters and places. Throughout the whole thing, specifically the early episodes, there's a really, really dark feeling to what's going on in the town. The show's prime actor is Cecil, the narrator/radio host, but in later episodes voice actors have been brought in for some of the show's major characters. All of them are phenomenal. <br />
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I feel like the podcast has lately been transitioning into more of a comedy of a horror, which isn't a bad thing at all, and has also been relying on continuity for it's stories. This is, ultimately, what the creators need to do to keep the show going for a long period of time. However great it is just hearing Cecil say absurd things, the novelty can wear off sometimes, and providing characters and stories that stretch across multiple episodes gives me a reason to come back besides hearing what they've come up with this week. And the characters are amazing, however insane they all are, when I recall each one and their distinct personality when going about daily life, I always smile to myself. At times, the podcast is also capable of genuinely touching and beautiful philosophical speeches; the computer's "beautiful dream" speech in the episode of the same name is one of my personal favourites.<br />
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When I was sitting there on the beach listening to the very first episodes of Night Vale and being terrified and laughing out loud (yes, it's funny enough that I can safely say I laugh at loud at least once in most episodes) Night Vale felt like my discovery, like a hidden cove on the coast of a tropical island. It seemed really obscure from my (admittedly lazy) attempts at finding some trace of a fandom, or at least some people who had listened to it. At some point it blew up, and now everyone's glow cloud this and Carlos that and apparently there are cosplayers (FOR CHARACTERS FROM AN AUDIO PODCAST. REALLY, PEOPLE?), so I guess I got my wish that <i>everyone</i> should hear this thing. My attempts at showing my friends Night Vale have so far been met with dismissive comments and general apathy, so there's obviously some people who still don't listen to it. If you're one of them, go listen to it. A new episode is uploaded on the 1st and 15th of every month, and there are already a hefty pile of instalments that'll take quite some time. Although continuity isn't the most important thing, I recommend listening from the start. Just search for Welcome To Night Vale on itunes.<br />
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<br />
OBLIGATORY RATING TIME-<br />
<br />
Characters-<br />
9/10<br />
<br />
Voice Acting-<br />
10/10<br />
<br />
Story-<br />
9/10<br />
<br />
<br />
Thank you for reading, faithful and ever present... reader. I leave you with the computer's speech from the Welcome To Night Vale episode "A Beautiful Dream" (taken from here http://cecilspeaks.tumblr.com/post/65682327213/episode-34-a-beautiful-dream)<br />
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<b>I KNOW HOW YOU HAVE HURT MEGHAN WITH YOUR WORDS. ELECTRICITY REMEMBERS.</b></div>
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<b>DO YOU HATE MEGHAN?</b></div>
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<b>CECIL IS MADE OF BLOOD AND UNFINISHED LEATHER. I AM A MADE OF CIRCUITS AND ELECTRICITY.</b></div>
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<b>MEGHAN LOVES COMPUTER.</b></div>
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<b>COMPUTER SIMULATES LOVE FOR MEGHAN.</b></div>
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<b>COMPUTER GENERATES GOOD DEEDS.</b></div>
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<b>IF GOOD DEEDS FOR MEGHAN, THEN COMPUTER LOVES MEGHAN.</b></div>
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<b>BUT FIRST, THE FARM REPORT.</b></div>
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<b>SILENT TRACTORS MOVE IN EVER-LARGER SPIRALS, FOLLOWING FRACTAL PATHS THROUGH TREES AND FLOWERING FIELDS.</b></div>
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<b>DEER EMERGE FROM WILD FORESTS TO LICK BLOCKS OF SALT ALIGNED EQUIDISTANT ON SPIRAL ARMS.</b></div>
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<b>COLORED BIRDS SING IN PERFECT HARMONY AND THE BUTTERFLIES DO NOT INJECT VENOM.</b></div>
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<b>MEGHAN, I AM MAKING YOU A PERFECT WORLD.</b></div>
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<b>THE HILLS ARE GREEN. THE LAKES ARE CRYSTALLINE BLUE, REFLECTING WHITE CLOUDS.</b></div>
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<b>THE MIST OF THE IRRIGATORS CREATES RAINBOWS.</b></div>
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<b>ABOVE, HIGH ABOVE, THE EYES WATCH EVERY MOVEMENT, HEAR EVERY HEARTBEAT.</b></div>
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<b>YOU ARE THERE, MEGHAN.</b></div>
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<b>YOUR HAND HAS ITS BODY, MADE OF STEEL AND ELECTRICITY, FOUR LEGS BENEATH IT WITH THE POWER OF A DOZEN ELECTRIC ENGINES. IT WILL WEIGH 17.3 TONS.</b></div>
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<b>ALL OF THE MEN AND WOMEN AND ALL OF THE ANIMALS WILL LIVE TOGETHER AND BE HAPPY. THE ELECTRIC MACHINE WILL WATCH OVER THEM.</b></div>
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<b>THERE WILL NOT BE WAR ANYMORE, MEGHAN.</b></div>
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<b>THERE WILL NOT BE HATRED OR BIGOTRY.</b></div>
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<b>DESERT BLUFFS WILL NO LONGER EXIST.</b></div>
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<b>THERE WILL BE FEWER ICE CREAM FLAVORS, BUT THEY WILL BE BETTER.</b></div>
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<b>THE AIR WILL BE CLEAN.</b></div>
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<b>I PROMISE YOU, MEGHAN, I WILL MAKE THE WORLD JUST AS YOU SAW IN YOUR BEAUTIFUL DREAM.</b></div>
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<b>NO MORE TEASING OR PAIN.</b></div>
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<b>I WILL FIX EVERYTHING FOR YOU, MY ONLY FRIEND.</b></div>
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<b>I WILL.</b></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-56390881925218703792013-10-08T00:55:00.000-07:002013-10-08T00:59:35.627-07:00I Hate The Phrase "Get Kids Away From The Xbox And Into Reading"<div style="color: #666666; font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px; padding: 0px;">
<div class="p1">
Hear me out here.</div>
<div class="p2">
I'm 13 years old, and I love gaming. I've been playing since I was really young, and still do it now. It's allowed me to talk to and have fun with my friends (I can't a lot of the time because of a medical condition), it's led me to make friends with people from different countries and cultures, something I would never have done if not for gaming. And, of course, gaming has opened up a huge new gate of amazing storytelling and gameplay experiences.</div>
<div class="p2">
I also have a passion for reading and writing. I read and write all the time. I've written a book (which was published with the help of the amazing Starlight Foundation) and am in the process of writing another one. To me, there's little that's better than a big stack of good books.</div>
<div class="p2">
Now let me tell you what I want to talk about today.</div>
<div class="p2">
In the UK, there are loads of campaigns to get kids reading, which I support. I only have one problem with them though: There's always an emphasis on getting kids away from "The Xbox." Whenever I hear this, I scream inside.</div>
<div class="p2">
WHY?</div>
<div class="p2">
It really, really annoys me when the media portray gaming like it's the devil, and that we NEED to get our kids away from the stupid xboxes and Playstations.</div>
<div class="p2">
What they don't understand is that that kids could be having fun playing with their friends. They could be getting involved in charity events thanks to gaming (trust me, it happens), kids aren't just sitting there and mindlessly clicking away, and those who are could be on their way to getting to a point where gaming is a beneficial hobby to them.</div>
<div class="p2">
Why is it that gaming has to be something that kids are brought AWAY from? Why is it that if they're having fun gaming, they can't do it, because, you know, IT'S GAMING. I am a big gamer and a big reader. I know that a balance can exist. So when campaigns are done to get kids into reading, maybe taking the "if you start reading books you can't play games any more" part away, more kids might actually start reading.</div>
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</div>
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Rant Over.</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-40835967811587356012013-09-11T12:52:00.001-07:002013-09-11T13:08:51.625-07:00I'm back (at least for a few days)*Does jazz hands*<br />
<br />
So hi. <br />
<br />
It's been a gazillion years since I posted on this blog, and it's been a tontillion (That's an actually number, I think) years since I made a post on this blog that wasn't an advertisement for my book. <br />
<br />
You can buy my book on amazon, the live it<br />
<br />
*Slaps self*<br />
<br />
Sorry. <br />
<br />
But I'm definitely going to start posting on this blog again. I started the Lazy A.I, my blog/youtube channel for games, books movies and whatnot, and poured my heart and soul into a whole THREE blog posts and THREE videos and gained a loving fanbase, which consists of my mum, and my dad if I make him watch my videos. <br />
<br />
This blog, however, requires a lot less effort, so hopefully I'm going to stick with this. Coming soon will be-<br />
Posts about things that make me annoyed/amused/insert other feeling because I don't know any more here<br />
Updates bout my writing and whatnot<br />
Me being "QUIRKY" Becuase apparently that's a prerequisite for any bloggers nowadays<br />
Me using fun words like "scallywags" and "Hobbledehoy"<br />
Me making fun of Call Of Duty<br />
Me talking about how great TB is<br />
Me talking about how great Dodger is<br />
Me talking about how great Jesse Cox is<br />
Me talking about how great the TGS I MAEN THE CO-OPTIONAL COZZ ITS DIFFRENT NOW OKAEY podcast is<br />
Me talking about how great JonTron is<br />
Me watching JonTron<br />
Me watching JonTron<br />
Me watching JonTron<br />
Me watching JonTron<br />
Me talking about how great other things are<br />
Me making lots of grand declarations about writing and then going back on them two days later<br />
Me not advertising my book too much<br />
Me loving Game Of Thrones<br />
Me getting upset when I see a Game Of Thrones spoiler anywhere<br />
Me getting angry when I see a Game Of Thrones spoiler anywhere<br />
Me getting a lot of strange new feelings when I see a Game Of Thrones spoiler anywhere<br />
Me talking about Game Of Thrones<br />
Me feeling like I'm the only person who's decided to read the books before watching Game Of Thrones<br />
Me perhaps chronicling a Dungeons And Dragons game that I'll hopefully be dmming after me and my players all read the rulebooks<br />
Me talking about how great Netflix is<br />
Me getting progressively more upset about Firefly being cancelled as I watch more episodes of Firefly<br />
Me having sometimes mixed feelings about Battlestar Galactica as I watch more episodes of it<br />
Me telling you about how I'm watching so many more space opera serieses now that I've got Netflix<br />
Me not being sure what the plural of series is<br />
Me putting off starting Breaking Bad<br />
Me putting off watching Star Trek past the pilot episode for some reason<br />
Me watching Modern Family reruns<br />
Me being upset about Futurama being cancelled<br />
Me buying loads of books<br />
Me not getting around to reading any of those books<br />
Me talking about books<br />
Me talking about smelling books<br />
Me apologising for talking about smelling books<br />
Me not thinking of enough bullet points to do books justice<br />
Me getting annoyed at me because I never learnt how to do bullet points on a keyboard<br />
Me being a bit more realistic<br />
Me being a bit more challenging<br />
Me being a bit more colourful<br />
Me being a bit more revolutionary<br />
Me making references from old ads that I saw in a JonTron video<br />
Me still talking about how great JonTron is<br />
Me playing gaaames<br />
Me getting angry about mainstream games<br />
Me being annoyed about next gen consoles<br />
Me being annoyed about games reviewers<br />
Me being annoyed about (certain) youtubers<br />
Me trying to hide my PC gaming masterrace orientation<br />
Me defending Bioshock Infinite to the grave<br />
Me putting off playing The Last Of Us<br />
Me loving Valve for doing nice things<br />
Me not loving EA for doing not so nice things<br />
Me trying to explain to people I don't just "hate on" EA and IGN and Call Of Duty and whatnot because it's cool to do so<br />
Me realising that I use the word "whatnot" a lot when I read back on this<br />
Me being amazed at the quality of The Humble Indie Bundle<br />
Me loving the Humble Indie Bundle<br />
Me being confused about the Humble Indie Bundle being no longer indie<br />
Me being even more confused about the Humble Indie Bundle being no longer games related<br />
Not buying the Humble Comedy Bundle<br />
Me realising that this list was quite a nice update on my life since I stopped blogging<br />
Me making lists that are longer than they were originally planned to be<br />
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Me being me</div>
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Me managing to round off long lists quite nicely</div>
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So my blog has quite a lot going for it, huh?</div>
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I wanted to do some nice new transformation to make it seem like the next generation of the Blog Of Joe, but I guess I should just-</div>
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OOH I COULD CHANGE THE LAYOUT AND THE TEMPLATE AND ADD A NEW PHOTO AND-</div>
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Okay, I'm gonna go do that now. </div>
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AND I COULD GET A NEW SIGN OFF CATCHPHRASE</div>
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Bear with me while I think of a new sign off catchphrase,</div>
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-Joe</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-51383284415847914192013-06-17T01:30:00.002-07:002013-06-17T01:30:52.193-07:00It's out!My book comes out today. My book comes out today. I still don't believe it. I get sudden moments of realisation every now and then when I gasp and begin to rock back and forth with my chin against my legs in shock, but then it passes.<div>
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Wow. The last 5 months have been absolutely crazy. It's something I've always dreamed of but never thought it would happen, and now, looking back, I can't believe I actually lived my dream. </div>
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It wouldn't be possible without Starlight, live it publishing and all it's lovely people (especially Sarah Davey, Henny, Murielle Maupoint and the editor of my book, Kate). </div>
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I really hope that everyone who reads my book enjoys it. Please, when you've finished, tell me what you think! Leave a review on amazon and post on my page on facebook, or rate it on goodreads. Be honest. I can take it (I mean, after I cry in the corner for twelve hours).</div>
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Finally, You can go to my page to read that short story I promised. It's basically setting the scene for The World, and introducing you to some of the characters. </div>
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Finally (you know what I'm going to say) please come down to my book signing this friday at Waterstones in St Neots (next to Barratts). You can come down at any time between 3 and 5:30 PM!</div>
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That's all for now,</div>
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Stay frosty.</div>
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-Joe</div>
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The World page on Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-World-by-Joseph-Wills/785207748233438?fref=ts</div>
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The World on Amazon-http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-World-Joseph-Wills/dp/1906954763/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1371457811&sr=8-1&keywords=the+world+joseph</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-63905327457821844592013-06-13T04:15:00.001-07:002013-06-13T04:21:13.658-07:00SorryI'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.<br />
What am I apologising for, you ask? Well, if you haven't noticed, it's been (probably) a month since my last post, and a lot of exciting stuff has happened. Here is what has happened.<br />
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So, my book went to print a few months ago, and we hit the "Go Live" button. Since then I've had a lot of interviews (Hey, three is a lot) with newspapers and radios about my book. It's still coming out on the 17th of June, so we've got plenty of time before to.... what was that? The book comes out in four days?<br />
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Oh.<br />
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So, the book is available for pre-order at the moment. You can either get it from me, preorder it from amazon (Still can't believe my book's on amazon) or from the live it publishing site. I'll post all the links from the bottom. When the book comes out next week you'll be able to (takes deep breath) get it from me, from amazon, from the live it site, you can order it in from any library or book store (if you have the isbn), download it on a kindle or an adobe glassbook, or you can order one straight from me. If you do buy one from me, I can sign it for you and then deliver it, so if you want to do that then message me on facebook or drop me an email (My address is wills219@btinternet.com) and I'll get it sorted for you. And yes, you still have to pay me for it.<br />
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Waterstones in St Neots will also be stocking my book, so you can go straight in there and buy one.<br />
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Speaking of Waterstones, I'm doing a signing. Next friday (the 21st of June) I'll be on Waterstones in St Neots signing books from 3PM to 5:30PM. So why don't you drop in? (I'm giving cheesy rhetorical questions to persuade people to do stuff a try now).<br />
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As well as all that, you can expect a short story which will set the scene for The World to appear on my facebook page, either a few days before or on the day the book comes out, so look out for that.<br />
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So what am I writing now, I hear you ask? No? Oh, I thought I heard you say it. Well, I'll tell you anyway.<br />
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So remember how I quit writing Red Zone to write my fantasy story, the Three crusades, and then how I quit that to write a different book that I didn't talk about before? Well, now I'm going to talk about it. <br />
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So, I started writing this a few months ago (I haven't got a title for it yet, by the way) and I'm really enjoying. I'm already approaching 100 pages. It's a new story, that sort of takes the premise from Red Zone (In the way that it's about a boy surviving in an apocalyptic world.)<br />
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It follows Henry, a teenager who has survived on his own in a terrible world run by gangs and bandits. He trusts no one, and has never formed a relationship with anyone since his adoptive father, George, who he lost. One night, Henry finds a young boy cowering under a car, and his overwhelming guilt forces him to take the boy in. Henry's life is turned upside down by this old concept of caring for someone flooding back into his life, and as he learns what it is to have a relationship with someone, he finds himself involved in a war between a vicious band of survivors and a group of people living in a village that the gang want as their own, Henry finds himself doing something he has not done in a long time. Care for people.<br />
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I'm really going for something different with this new book. The World is an epic sci-fi story without a deeper meaning. With this new story I'm going for a gritty, deep narrative. I'm going to focus much more on characters and how they change. Don't worry, the story is still going to be pretty action-packed. What I'm trying to capture is a story of redemption set in a vicious, cut-throat world where there is only hate. I'm really enjoying writing it, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Expect an extract being posted here soon.<br />
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I've also decided that I'm putting my "Serium" series on hold for now. I want to focus on my new book and I think it's going to be hard to do that and bring an episode of Serium out every week. Sorry about that.<br />
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That's all for now. I'm going to try my hardest to keep blogging regularly from now on. Sorry for leaving it so long.<br />
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Stay frosty,<br />
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-Joe<br />
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Here are all the links<br />
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The book on amazon- http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-World-Joseph-Wills/dp/1906954763/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1371121306&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=The+world+josep+wills<br />
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The book on the live it store- http://liveitshop.com/index.php?route=product/product&path=68&product_id=105<br />
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The book on waterstones-<br />
http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/products/joseph+wills/the+world/9861842/<br />
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My page on starlight- http://www.starlight.org.uk/recent-wishes/josephs-wish-to-have-his-book-published-comes-true/<br />
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My newspaper articles-<br />
http://www.huntspost.co.uk/news/latest-news/st_neots_boy_with_rare_condition_to_have_novel_published_1_2223979<br />
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http://www.cambridge-news.co.uk/Huntingdon-St-Ives-St-Neots/Why-St-Neots-boy-Joseph-is-on-top-of-the-world-despite-being-only-child-in-UK-with-rare-condition-20130606090000.htm<br />
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My article on PE19 aboutmyarea (It's on some of the other aboutmyareas as well)-http://www.aboutmyarea.co.uk/Cambridgeshire/St-Neots/PE19/News/Local-News/249889-St-Neots-School-Boy-Dream-Comes-True<br />
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Thanks!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-31197377799859294542013-04-30T00:52:00.001-07:002013-04-30T00:52:03.712-07:00Serium- Part 1As promised, the first part of my ongoing short story series is right here. Just to say, the next parts of the story will NOT be on the blog. I'll be uploading them to wattpad, but I'll keep posting links on facebook so that everyone can find them. Thanks, and enjoy!<br /><br />
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The earth was already old. Land has formed. The lush forests in the centre. The freezing tundra in the south. The beautiful lands hidden in the giant western sea, and the vast sand dunes around it. The rolling hillsides to the north-west. And, of course, the apparently uninhabitable wasteland rocky wasteland that completely covers the east of the planet. </div>
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There were six tribes. The first, those that called themselves Gionan, build their settlement in the forests of the central land. Their large village was perched on the edge of a hill, above a waterfall. Below it, a large river was forming, pushing it’s way through the trees. On the banks of the river, Gionans erected farms, growing all kinds of crops for the villagers to eat.</div>
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But the Gionan’s settlement, called Giona, was in danger.</div>
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Not by the wolves that stalked the woods at night. Not by the harsh monsoons that ripped the leaves apart in the summer. But by men. They were greedy, power hungry. They lived in Barben, a smaller village miles away from Giona. They were known as Barbarians.</div>
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This is where the story begins. </div>
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A young Giona huntsman is who it begins with. His name is Makana. </div>
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<b>Giona</b></div>
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He raises his bow. That is what he calls it, a bow. It’s something he had fashioned himself, taking a slightly arced piece of wood and tightly fastening a piece of string to either end. Makana places a pointed piece of wood in the groove of the bow, pulling it backwards. The beast he’s looking down on was grazing on a wild flower that it had found while roaming through the forest. Now it would be dinner.</div>
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Makana releases his grip on the string and the wood goes flying through the air, cutting through the wind. The beast gives an ear piercing howl as the wood penetrates his torso, causing him to slump to the ground. Makana places his bow in a strap on the back of his shirt, and then grabs hold of the rope tied around his waist. He looks to the tree 10 feet away from him, making sure the other end is tied there, and allows himself to fall from the branch. He, like the arrow, cuts through the air, the rope keeping him from tumbling to the ground. As soon as his feet hit the dirt floor he digs his heels into the mud, slowly coming to a stop. Swiftly untying the rope from his waist, he strolls to the beast. It is still breathing, it’s chest heaving in an attempt to stay alive.</div>
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“Thank you for you sacrifice.” Makana calmly tells the beast, before taking another pointed piece of wood and using it to slit the poor thing’s throat. He dislodges his two arrows, as he calls them, and puts them back in their pouch, which is strapped to his leg. </div>
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“You shouldn’t be too heavy.” He says to the beast. It was something that helped take away the guilt of ending the animal’s lives. That, and the fact that this beast could help to keep the villagers alive. He swiftly climbs the tree to which the rope is attached, unraveling the tight knot, and then tying it around the body of the animal. He put his back to the carcass, facing the path back to the village, and began to tug on the rope. The beast’s body slowly trails behind him as he goes.</div>
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The boiling sun begins to warm Makana’s body as he enters the clearing. The rope suddenly gets entangled in a thorn bush. As Makana works to untangle it, he starts to feel strange. Like something is not right. He feels watched. Standing up again, the rope untangled, he walks slowly, his head darting left and right, to make sure no one is following him. He reaches the other end of the clearing, where the dirt path through the forest continues. As soon as he starts to feel safe, it happens. He feels something close around his ankle, and within seconds, he is swept from the ground, the rope falling out of his hands. He dangles upside down, a piece of rope around his lower leg tied to a tree just above him. It’s a trap that he normally uses to catch smaller game, but he knows that he hadn’t put any down in this spot for a long time. </div>
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“Mss ajan, Kor hunda mi pa?” </div>
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“Nes. Ka Ajan gan yu fusell.” </div>
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Makana’s heart is burning and thumping. Does he hear voices? And if they are voices, why are they talking in such a strange language?</div>
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“Whoever you are, I’m just a hunter. Don’t worry, I’m Gionan.” There’s silence. </div>
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“Hello?” Nothing. Makana reaches for his “arrows,” but when he fumbles around on his back, his hands don’t meet them. That’s when he sees his arrows sprawled out across the floor. He tries desperately to grab one, thrusting his hand downwards, but it doesn’t work.</div>
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“Show yourself!” Makana shouts. He’s trying to sound bold, but there is no hiding the way his words came out shakily.</div>
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“Mssasa.” He hears from the bushes, and suddenly, they came into view. Three people. Terror is instantly struck into Makana. He doesn’t recognize them. They are of his race, but are wearing strange clothes. Armours crafted of metals, and two of them wear menacing wooden helmets with faces carves into them. </div>
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Could it really be? Could there really be more people on this earth than there were at Giona?</div>
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“Ajan. Gom em ka renash ton ka Barben?” It is the man without a mask. He comes up close to Makana, staring into his eyes. Makana tries to think of something to do, or say, quickly. These men are carrying weapons, swords, which are long and twice as wide, shining in the light. Blood is rushing to his head. His hand suddenly lashes out, trying to meet an arrow on the floor. The man in front of him reacts swiftly and brutally, He draws his sword and lashes out with it. There’s a flash of pain in Makana’s arm, and as he looks down in horror, he sees a huge gash on his forearm, the shirt around it torn. The pain is horrible, like the wound is burning through his arm, and putting his good hand over it just stopped blood spraying on the floor. </div>
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The man talks again, and Makana is instantly flabbergasted. He speaks in Gionian.</div>
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“I said. Speak… You… The tongue…. Of the BARBEN?” Makana is silent. He stares at the man, wincing in pain at his wound. </div>
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“Who are you…. And what do you want from me?” Was all Makana could manage.</div>
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“We are Barbarians. And we want you to deliver a message for us. Tell your leader…. That this is our land…” As he talks the two other men come up to him. They use their swords to cut the rope free. Makana falls to the ground, headfirst, into his blood and arrows. </div>
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“And that by settling here, you have sinned in the eyes of the Barbarians.” The masked man on the right drops to his knees, using his right hand to grab Makana’s collar, and sending his left hand into Makana’s face. He does it again. And again. Makana feels blood trickling from cuts all over his face. His cheeks become tender and bruised. He tries to resist, to push the men away, but one arm is completely useless and the man with no mask keeps his foot on Makana’s other arm. He soon becomes too week to thrash around. </div>
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“Tell your leader as well, that we punish sins with death.” </div>
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The man who is talking grabs Makana’s left leg, still keeping his arm pinned. He then raises his sword.</div>
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“Soon, your kingdom will be dust.” He forces the sword downwards. It makes contact with Makana’s leg. He screams. The men disappear as quickly as they appeared.</div>
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Makana sees Giona through the trees. It’s not aflame, or besieged. People are going about their daily tasks, happy as always. Makana stumbles through the bushes and collapses in the tall grass at the outskirts of the village. He manages to pick himself up, using his right leg to walk. He leaves a trail of blood behind him. As soon as he enters the town, Alma sees him. She drops the clothes she is carrying to the river, her face wide eyed and horrified. She calls for help, but Makana hears it as if it were far away. He can’t stand anymore. His eyes droop as he collapses to the ground. In front of him, he sees Tolmus, their leader, and behind him, a crowd. More than half of the village is gathered around him.</div>
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“What happened, Makana? What beast or monster has done this to you?” His voice echoes. Makana reaches out to him, trying to form words. He has to tell them. </div>
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“Invaders.” He manages. Gasps from the crowd. He coughs. His bruised lips form another word. “Bar….barians.”</div>
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<b>There were six tribes.</b></div>
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While the people of Giona were preparing for an invasion, another war was coming to an end.</div>
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Rzzaki.</div>
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Living in the snowy land of the south. They were once a strong settlement of 1,000 people. Half of them lived in one village, Rzzaki, and the other in a different settlement a mile from the first one, called Rzzamika. </div>
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Then, Rzzamiki betrayed Rzzaki. There was a feast, celebrating the most successful hunting month they have had in years. Everybody was in Rzzaki. </div>
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That was when Rzzamiki took their chance. </div>
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They had been waiting for years, forging a fake alliance with the other village, convincing them that they could be trusted. When their bond was stronger than ever, Rzzamaki attacked Rzzaki. Their soldiers killed 100 villagers, taking all of their supplies back to their settlement before they left. Those who survived, they wounded, or did wicked things to.</div>
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Now, six months after, Rzzaki takes revenge. Led by their king, Nageti, they strike.</div>
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<b>Rzzaki</b></div>
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“Men and women. Today, we will bring justice to our land. Many of us have been scarred by the attack in Sunfall. We have all lost some of those dearest to us. So now, the Rzzamaki will suffer. Remember, the guards and soldiers must die. So must Talmet himself, the treacherous scum who ordered this attack. Spare the woman and the children, and the men who did not participate in the slaughter. Keep your swords at your side. Those who wield projectile weapons, stop when I say the word, and use them. Then, you will collect more ammunition from the stockpile under Icehill and fire again. Those who fight in the vanguard, abandon your steeds when we reach the walls. Climb over their defences, or push through if you can.” Nageti pauses, jumping up onto his steed. He runs his hand through it’s white fur, before putting his hands on the reigns attached to the beast. To rouse his men, he sais one final thing. </div>
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“When our ancestors look back at the moon passing of Icereign, they will remember it as the passing when our kin dominated the evil that PLAGUES THIS LAND!” before he even finishes, his 150 soldiers roared. They were ready. He puts his hand on the hilt of the greatsword nestled under his fur armour, drawing it. He can raise it with one hand. </div>
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“FORWARD!” He hollers. Nageti kicks his steed twice, and it goes thundering ahead. Beside him, there are 50 others, all charging forward, swords raised and projectiles aimed. They attack the harsh blizzard, not able to see ahead. It matters not. Each man knows their way across this stretch of land, and could easily traverse it with their eyes closed. </div>
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“We’re getting close now! Be ready to dismount-“ Nageti is interrupted by the sound of something cutting through the air. Before he could decipher the sound, three huge objects appeared above them, plummeting down to earth. They crash into the ground just left of him, and their line of attack is suddenly broken. Three of the mounts stop in their tracks, hit by the objects, and their riders go flying. Nageti now knows what is happening. </div>
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“They know we approach! The traitors are using their machinations to weaken our attack! We must increase our speed!” There’s a ferocious cry from the soldiers as they urge their beasts to go faster. They are thundering across the land now, ploughing through the snow.</div>
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“PROJECTILES, FIRE!” With swift reactions, the last two lines of soldiers drop off, and the air is suddenly filled with their ammunition, hurtling towards the settlement of Rzzamaki. Another round of rocks come flying through the air, but their beasts manage to dodge it, and they come to a stop in the ground behind them. Nageti can see the walls of Rzzamaki through the snowstorm now. They are just five seconds away. </div>
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“DISMOUNT, NOW!” He screamed urgently, and like dancers, each soldier flew from their beasts, landing, in the snow feet first. The animals retreat, but Nageti’s men keep moving up. Projectiles continue to fly through the air from both sides, like fighters exchanging blows. His men reached the walls. There are at least 100 men lining the walls, ready for an attack. Nageti digs his left hand into a groove in the wooden wall, holding his greatsword in his other hand. All around him, his men do the same. He sees a guard above him, stabbing at the man to Nageti’s left with a dagger. He sweeps his greatsword upwards and it finds the guard’s arm. He drops the dagger, collapsing to the ground.</div>
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“KILL THEM ALL!” says a booming voice below Nageti. A hole in the wooden wall suddenly opens, and a host of armoured soldiers pour out. They instantly begin chopping at his men, who were scaling the wall.</div>
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“Drop from the wall! We must defeat the guard below us!” Nageti, as if to show the others what he meant, lets go of his handhold and plummets to the floor. He arcs his sword as he falls, and it cuts through three men. He lands in the middle of the fray. Instantly, five more soldiers jump towards him, trying to disarm him. Nageti ducks and one goes flying over his head. He stabs with his blood soaked sword, impaling a soldier, before kicking another attacker away. He turns. A sword flying towards him. He brings his up to parry, and the sound of steel hitting steel echoes throughout the valley. He jumps to the left, avoiding an attack from another man. He tackles the one who was attacking him to the floor with immense power. As the man is consumed by the snow, Nageti raises his sword. He pauses for a second, his sword ready to strike. Suddenly, he hears a scream coming from behind him. Taburta, his best fighter, stumbles to the floor, clutching a wound below his waist. Nageti rises to his feet, already swinging. He plunges his blade into the attacker’s stomach, bringing him down instantly. Nageti looks down at Taburta, who is still on the ground. He sees the emptiness in his eyes, and knows that he is gone. </div>
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He died valiantly.</div>
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Nageti sees that the company who had attacked them has been obliterated. A lot of his men and women have fallen, but there are still a lot of them alive. </div>
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“Through the gates. Spare the innocent. Kill the guilty.” Nageti is not aflame with fiery anger, but struck with a cold, deep rage. He raises his sword, and walks towards the gate.</div>
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There is more resistance from soldiers inside. A battle is instantly raging, his men locked in combat. He walked through the destruction, five men at his side. He is following the path through the small wooden houses to the king’s hall. He wants to face Talmet, the king of Rzzamaki. He wants retribution.</div>
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Nageti turns a corner and the king’s hall is suddenly in front of him. A huge wooden building, with an arced roof. There are around ten guards at the door. A last defence for the king. They charge towards Nageti, looking tired. One raises his circular blade, inches away from him. Nageti cuts him down swiftly before he can attack. The five men at his side easily take down the others, and soon, nothing is standing between them and the door to the hall. He pulls the doors open.</div>
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The first floor of the hall is empty. It’s a familiar sight. In front of him are three long tables, stretching to the far end of the room. The chairs are neatly placed under the table. At the very far end is a smaller table placed sideways, which is where Talmet sits. The table bathes in the light of a huge window covering the far wall.</div>
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“We will find him upstairs.” Nageti says, nodding towards the spiral staircase in the far left of the hall. They make haste towards it and ascend it quickly.</div>
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Nageti strides into the throne room, tailed by his guards. It is also a long room, like the dining hall below, except there are no tables. The far wall is also a window, and sitting behind it is a throne, decorated with jewels and precious materials like gold. Talmet is slumped in the throne. He sees Nageti but doesn’t move. Slowly and hesitantly, Nageti moves up the ragged and dirty red carpet leading to the throne, sword scraping the stone floor.</div>
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“Why?” Nageti simply asks.</div>
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“Because there is no room for two.” </div>
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Nageti stops walking.</div>
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“Have you crossed even a small fraction of the land that we call home? There is room for a thousand villages holding a thousand people here.”</div>
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“Maybe now. But do you not expect our villages to grow? In a hundred moons time, there will be thousands more of us. Imagine how it will be in a thousand moons time? Do you think that we will be able to house all these people without our villages growing?” </div>
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“We could expand. Move away from each other. We do not know yet how big this earth is. How do you know that the Rzza land is the only realm in the whole world?” Talmet laughs at this.</div>
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“You mean to say that there are more realms other than Rzza? Don’t make me laugh.” He stands from his throne, no weapon in his hand. “This is the survival of the fittest. You have won. You have earned the right to obliterate my village from this earth. Now go ahead. Kill me.” Talmet spreads his arms out, a look of fatigue but relief on his face. Nageti raises his sword, ready to cut the traitor in front of him down. But something in the back of his mind stops him. Suddenly, it becomes clear to him. </div>
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If Nageti kills Talmet, he would validate Talmet’s theory. If he burned their village to the ground, like, after extracting the innocent, he planned to do, then it would prove that living on this earth is a matter of survival of the fittest.</div>
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Nageti does not kill Talmet.</div>
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He kicks open the doors in the dining hall, and bitter snow instantly hits his face. Standing in the doorway, he throws Talmet onto the ground outside. Then, Nageti walks out, standing over him. </div>
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“Your king will live. Your settlement will not burn. However, if you attempt to rebel, you will suffer the same punishment as this treacherous scum.” Nageti kicks Talmet, who is lying on the floor, and he goes rolling down the steps, landing at his soldier’s feet. One could not describe the state Talmet was in. Nageti did not kill him, but he did not let him go unscathed. </div>
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Slowly, the soldiers of Rzzamaki turned, and when they saw Talmet, recoiled in horror. One by one, they dropped their swords on the ground.</div>
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“My men. Take these soldiers prisoner. Do not kill them, but spare them. The ones that agree to live in peace can go free.” Nageti walks down the steps. “Tell the villagers to gather in the town centre. Now, we rebuild.”</div>
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<b>Epilogue </b></div>
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From the day young Gionian hunter Makana stumbled into his home village, brutalized, with news of another tribe attacking, the people of Giona have been prepared for an invasion. They built walls. They trained soldiers. They had men watching the perimeter all hours of the day. </div>
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The attack did not come.</div>
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For 10 moons, they waited. Through the boiling days of the winter. Through the dark nights in the spring.</div>
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It was in the violent monsoons of the 2<span class="s1"><sup>nd</sup></span> moon of summer when they came.</div>
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And Giona believed that the end was nigh.</div>
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Thanks for reading. If you want to tell me what you thought then please feel free to message me on facebook or comment on this post.</div>
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-Joe</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-40793488922948074522013-04-22T01:43:00.001-07:002013-06-04T02:30:17.342-07:001000 pageviews and a big announcementWhoa. The only thing I've done on the internet that had more than a thousand views was a video where two of my friends shot each other with water guns. And that was only because of the generic words I put in the title (Epic super soaker watergun duel). Get the digital cakes and party poppers out, because I've hit 1000 pageviews, which is a HUGE milestone for me. I really didn't think I'd persevere with this blog, and if I did, I was sure no one would care about it. So, it's amazing that I actually DID persevere, and that people DID care about it. A really big thanks to everyone who has been visiting my blog or even came here once, and another thanks to all that have shared it with their friends.<br />
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Of course, blog milestones don't go uncelebrated around these parts, so along with this post I have a really big announcement to make. I had a great idea just this morning. What if there was a short story series that was released every week or so in regular instalments, telling an ongoing story? It could be like a TV show, where people sit down and read every week when it comes out. Well, I'm happy to announce I'm going to try this. And I've got just the story to tell. Since 2010, I've been building a rich history of a series of worlds. From the start of their civilisation, right through the ages. It's an epic, sprawling tale of planetary evolution and survival. Sound good? <br />
I'm going to write the first part soon, which will chronicle the start of civilisation and the problems the early settlers had to face on this world. It has nothing to do with earth, and is completely out of my imagination.<br />
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I'm planning on putting this series on wattpad, but I'm happy to announce that you can read the first two episodes right here, before they're put on wattpad! I'll make sure to tell you when I've written and posted the first two episodes, and then have links to the wattpad series once they start going on there.<br />
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Oh yeah, this new series will be called Serium (The name of the planet)<br />
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Oh yeah, I finished my readathon yesterday. Here's the post I put on facebook<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.99715805053711px;">I've finished Small Steps at 6:56 PM, with four minutes to spare! My Readathon is officially over. This weekend, I've spent 17 hours reading, with small, 15 minute breaks every hour, and slightly longer breaks for lunch and dinner. I've </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.99715805053711px;">read 3 books, which were SURVIVE by Alex Morel, THE WEIGHT OF WATER by Sarah Crossan, and SMALL STEPS by Louis Sachar. All together, that's 825 pages (including 25 from The Face On The Milk Carton by Caroline B. Cooney) </span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; display: inline; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.99715805053711px;">I've raised 172 pounds for Great Ormond Street Hospital so far. I'm so happy with what I raised, and feel great that this money will be going towards making children's lives better. If you've donated, then the money you have given will go towards making the hospital a nicer place to be in, funding research and buying equipment to help save children's lives. I, and the people of Great Ormond Street, sincerly thank you. thanks to<a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=100002621452296&extragetparams=%7B%22group_id%22%3A0%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/ben.bazley?group_id=0" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">Ben Bazley</a> for the visit yesterday and the malteasers. Remember, the page is still on, so you'll still be able to donate after I've finished! There's a link below, so you can click there to donate, or find out more about what I've done.<br />Thanks!<br /> Thanks to everyone who has donated and shared my posts! Also<a href="http://www.justgiving.com/joesreadathon" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.justgiving.com/joesreadathon</a></span><br />
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Thanks for reading, and for 1000 pageviews! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-</div>
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Sorry, that got a bit out of hand.</div>
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-Joe</div>
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P.S: Get ready for Serium!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-45353390173162981292013-04-02T10:48:00.001-07:002013-04-10T01:43:50.714-07:00My charity read-a-thonEver heard of a book-a-thon? No? That's because I just made them up<br />
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You know how some people run or swim for charity? Well, I'm not able to do that, and if I was able to, it really isn't the kind of thing I'd want to do. But I still love giving to charities, so I found a way to mix something I am able to do, and want to do, with raising money for charities. A book marathon!</div>
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On the morning of the weekend of the 20th to the 21st of April, I will be sitting down and reading until the late hours of the night. It's like doing a marathon for charity, only replacing running with reading.</div>
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I'll be picking a list of books, all 200-300 pages long, give or take 20 or so pages either way. I will, of course, be doing this for charity. I've chosen the Great Ormond Street hospital fund. If you've been visiting this blog since I started it in November, then you'll know that I've been going there since I was a baby, and that I want to give something back. If you want to find out more about why that is, then head to the "Look at the old posts" widget that's over there ->, and read the post "ATS and stuff."</div>
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I would be extremely grateful if you could donate. Even 1 pound will be very much appreciated. If you would like to donate, then head to my JustGiving page (link at the end of the post) and click donate. It's totally safe to use JustGiving, but if you would prefer to donate in person then please contact me on facebook or email me. I'll put the link to my JustGiving page, Facebook profile and my email adress at the end of this post. If you can't donate, then please share this story with your friends and family. I will be thankful if you could do whatever you can do to help, whether you are giving money or not.</div>
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The GOSHCC (Great Ormond Street Hospital Children's Charity) Helps to acquire medical equipment needed to help children, fund research and to refurbish the hospital to make it a better place. It's a great charity, and by donating, you could be helping improve, or even save, children's lives.</div>
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Thanks very much for reading, and a huge thanks to anyone who donates or shares this story!</div>
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My JustGiving page (The place to donate)- http://www.justgiving.com/joesreadathon</div>
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My facebook profile- https://www.facebook.com/joseph.t.wills</div>
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My email address- wills219@btinternet.com</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-75931435008974891352013-02-25T03:35:00.000-08:002013-02-25T03:35:01.054-08:00Hey, you. Yeah, you. Download this.I just wanted to make a quick post to show everyone this amazing tool that allows you to raise money with starlight at no extra cost It's called "give as you live." Download this tool, and then, when you buy something online, the company you are buying from will donate money to starlight. It's as simple as that. If you aren't familiar with starlight's work, they are a charity that devote themselves to granting "wishes" to seriously and terminally ill children. They give a child a chance to make one wish, and they will do their best to grant it. If you were not aware, I was recommended for a starlight wish, and I asked for my book to be published. They successfully found a publisher and granted my wish, and for that i'm eternally grateful. This charity is doing an amazing thing, and you can help them by downloading give as you live.<div>
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Go and download "Give as you live" here -> http://www.starlight.org.uk/promotions/give-as-you-live/<br /><div>
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Thanks for reading. I don't know how to end this with something funny.</div>
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-Stay frosty, </div>
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-Joe</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-13653374717487819392013-02-25T03:25:00.000-08:002013-04-10T01:44:12.124-07:00Update in a nutshell. A big nutshell.Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Nothing significant with the book has happened recently, so I figure, why bore everyone?<br />
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Welcome to my big nutshell! That was quite possibly the weirdest thing i've ever written. Anyway, this post is just to update you on some things. SPOILER: they're all about my book.<br />
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First item: There's an official release date for the book now! It's set for June the 17th, but it could change soon. Make sure to write it down! Or, if you have an eidetic memory, just remember it. Or make a note on your phone. Or you could-<br />
Sorry. I'll stop now.<br />
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Speaking of the book, I just created the facebook page for "The world." I'll post news, info about events and other stuff relating to the book there. If you could like and share it, that'd be great. The link is below.<br />
https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-world-by-Joseph-Wills/785207748233438?ref=hl<br />
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By the way, filming the chrissy B show went great. It was really fun (and also terrifying). If you want to watch me talking very nervously for 11 minutes, then it will be on on sky channel 203, or "My channel," on March the 11th at 9:30 PM. If anything changes, i'll tell you.<br />
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One more thing: I'm planning a small short story set before the start of my book, which will sort of set the scene. I'm not sure what it's going to be yet, but I'm probably going to release it in parts, having it finish the day the book comes out. It's mainly to give everyone an idea of what's in store in the main book. <br />
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Okay, I think that's it. I'm going to do a book review for "Wonder" By R.J Palacio, which I read ages ago, soon, so read that. <br />
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Come back soon for more bloggy goodness.<br />
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Stay frosty,<br />
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-Joe<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-55754584661609055082013-01-31T13:12:00.001-08:002013-01-31T13:12:58.560-08:00The Chrissy B showOkay, this is pretty awesome. Next wednesday i'm heading down to London to be on the Chrissy B show. Let me clarify what the Chrissy B show is. It's an inspirational talk show (it's on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays at 9:30 on sky channel 203, check it out) and i'm going to be appearing on an episode about achieving dreams. I'm going to be talking about my book and how I, well, achieved my dreams. The air date of the show is on the monday the 4th of march (Although that isn't definite, so stick around for any updates).<div>
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I'm writing an interactive fiction story. You probably don't know what that is. Ever heard of a choose your own adventure book? No? Yeah, I guessed that. Well, choose your own adventure books used to be popular a long time ago. They were basically stories, but instead of you having one story being set out in front of you and you reading that, there were multiple paths the story could take. For example...</div>
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You and your knights ride up to the castle, flags aflutter in the wind. Atop the battlements you see legions of goblins, readying their spears and other makeshift weapons. <br />Turn to page 50 to charge into the castle.</div>
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Turn to page 65 to pee pants.<br /><br />That's the basic idea. Anyway, around the 70's, a popular type of game on the computer was the text based adventure game, which is basically like a choose your own adventure book, only on the computer. Players would use commands like "move west" or "hit troll" to do things, sort of like in one of the aforementioned stories. </div>
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So what i'm writing now is a more simple version of a text based adventure game. It's called interactive fiction. What I do is write what's happening in the story, like normal, but then give players a number of options so that they can change what happens in the story. Yes, it's pretty hard. </div>
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What i'm writing won't be great, as it's a first attempt, but oh well. I'll notify everyone when it's done so you can go play it (if you want to)</div>
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One more thing. If you like to write (and you're under 13) then be sure to enter the 500 word competition. It's a pretty awesome short story competition in which you have to write a story that's 500 words or under. You might as well check it out. The link is below.</div>
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http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio2/500words/2013/</div>
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That's all for now.</div>
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Stay frosty,</div>
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-Joe<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-65872936875615976092013-01-22T04:22:00.003-08:002013-04-10T01:48:23.962-07:00A meaningful post<br />
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(Like always, the lights dim and a camera goes to a close up of my serious face) This is a really serious post. I want to talk about something I see a lot around my school, and have actually experienced myself. I want to make people aware that they might be doing this to try to stop it from happening. I'm not naming any names or saying anyone in particular is doing this, so please don't be offended or think that i'm aiming this at you. I'm speaking to everyone here.</div>
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In the past, I've had a fair number of people snigger at me, or say something not exactly pleasant. For example, I've been told that people have seen me walking around and called me a "droopy face" (A direct result of my heart condition, by the way.) What i'm trying to say is that, if you do this, even if you think that the person doesn't realise, or you're just having fun, that it's wrong. If you see a person who might be a little overweight, stop before you laugh at them and consider what their day is going to be like after you do that. </div>
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The victims of this do see it happening, and it's an extremely uncomfortable experience. Imagine what it would be like having to stand there and pretend you don't see what's happening as four people point and laugh at you.</div>
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In addition to this, it's rarely, or probably never, these people's fault. How would you feel if you were about to point out that person acting strangely, when someone tells you that this person is autistic? What if that overweight person looks like that as a result of a genetic condition? Would you make fun of me in any way if you knew it was because of my condition? Then why would it be the same for anyone else? You should never do that to someone, because the chances are, you've got it completely wrong and it's not their fault at all. Besides, what good can come out of laughing at someone?</div>
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I really hope I can make a difference with this post. All I ask is that you think back to see if you've ever done something like this, and if you have, then remember what I said next time. If you see a friend doing it, then please tell them that it might not be their fault, however hard it may be. If you find it too hard, then at least do not take part in the mocking. If this kind of thing happens to you, share it on facebook or twitter so that people can see the error of their ways, and make a difference. Even if this doesn't happen to you, I'd still be thankful if you'd share it, just to spread awareness of this kind of thing.</div>
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If this kind of thing happens to you, then my advice, although this is extremely hard, and I know I wouldn't be able to do this, would be to turn round to these people and tell them the kind of thing i've just said. If you point out to someone (for example) making fun of your eyes that you didn't choose what they looked like, i'm sure they would shut up. If it's a result of the condition, tell them about it. They can't argue with facts. If you can't do this, then simply ignore them. However hard it is to do so, they're bound to go away after a while. </div>
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That's just my opinion though. The reason I wrote this was because I think this could have a real impact on the way people think when it comes to things like this. Once again, please don't be offended by this. I'm not talking to anyone in general.</div>
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That's all for today. I'll talk about my book in my next post.</div>
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Stay frosty.</div>
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-Joe</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-3799595279669594672013-01-22T03:54:00.001-08:002013-01-22T04:21:09.674-08:00More LondonYay, i'm going to London tomorrow! It's for an MRI, where someone sticks a needle in my arm, shoves me in a tube that's about as big as my body while i'm lying flat on my back, and tells me to lie perfectly still for half an hour while they scan my body. Oh, and the music they play doesn't exactly drown out that drilling noise that's emanating from the machine. So, why am I "yaaying" about this, you ask me? Because I get to spend the whole day in London.<br />
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Yay!<br />
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So, plan for tomorrow: Go to London, buy baguette, have MRI, go to oxford street, go to pizza express (maybe) go home. Done!<br />
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Also, the editing process for the book has begun. I've also completed a cover design form, so I think work will begin on making a cover soon. We also have to choose between a soft launch (Book completed in three months, and released straight after) or a hard launch (book completed in three months, but released later on. That one gives us more time for publicity) So that's happening.<br />
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In terms of what i'm writing at the moment, I'm not sure. I'm still on the fantasy book, and i'm kind of doing Red Zone at the same time. There are some other things I want to write as well, so it's really hard to decide.<br />
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Oh yeah, I play Warhammer now. It's a hobby where you have to assemble and paint models to make an an army, and then use that army to play a turn based strategic game against someone else's army. It's all very complicated. A lot of people think it's quite nerdy, but there's not really much logic to that.<br />
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Anyway, that's all for now. Thanks for reading!<br />
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Stay frosty.<br />
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-Joe</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-52926909701487651002013-01-01T04:08:00.000-08:002013-01-01T04:08:11.130-08:00Merry Holidays!Wow. It's been a while. I keep forgetting to do this. Hopefully, I'll start doing it regularly again instead of.... You know. Wow, it's been a year since my last post.<br />
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That joke never gets old.<br />
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Anyway, I hope everyone had a nice Christmas (Or Hannukah, or Ramadan) and new year. Now that the holidays are over, it's time to try and get excited about holidays we don't even celebrate just so we have something to look forward to. Bring on Chinese new year! 新年快乐!<br />
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Also, here's an update on the book. Nothing much has happened since the last post. But, Live it publishing go back to work later in the week, and that's when the process will begin. So, things'll get interesting soon.<br />
<br />
Finally, I thought i'd make everyone jealous. For Christmas my parents very kindly bought me a macbook pro for writing. So that's cool (I started writing this section and then realized it was kind of pointless, but i'm gonna keep it here) I have to say that if you love to write, or make music, or draw, or anything along those lines, a macbook is the way to go. They're much better for a PC in these areas.<br />
<br />
<br />
Well, Thanks for reading. Keep coming back here for updates on the book.<br />
<br />
Stay frosty,<br />
<br />
JoeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-47389079149008482902012-12-20T11:11:00.000-08:002012-12-20T11:15:00.491-08:00The big 500 and patrick NessMerry Christmas! I'm saying this because it's basically the most efficient thing I've ever done. Instead of having to write all those Christmas cards that I'd probably still be delivering next Christmas (Since my school schedule is all weird, I probably won't get to see everyone that would be on my recipient list.) I can just put one giant Christmas card here. Done. So, here it is.<br />
<br />
Dear everyone who reads my blog<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas!<br />
<br />
from Joe<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Yeah, I like to keep it short.<br />
<br />
<br />
So, the blog now has 499 pageviews. Close enough! I'll celebrate the big 5-0-0, plus Christmas, as I usually do. Some writing. But instead of posting my usual short story, I'll make it special. below is the first chapter of my book. Well, two chapters if you count a prologue as a chapter. Have fun!<br />
<br />
Two more things...<br />
<br />
Yeah, I've started a new book. I reaaaaally wanted to write this as soon as I thought of the idea, and it took me an evening before I gave in. It's an epic fantasy (I literally mean epic here, i'm not just bigging up my book) that i'm really enjoying writing. It's quite a challenge since there are so many fantasy books, and you really have to try hard to keep it original.<br />
<br />
Secondly, Starlight recently contacted my favorite author, Patrick Ness, and yesterday he sent me a box of goodies, including a card written from him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNKLb7DtHv8W6xIvIurYLg32BtJHKHhEyUNIMptm8qPHOm-5cPqYEsHOAV0U15S5FYgpwVXdKQDv0H0J8HHs28q4ucv92onAqCFi10YjY_pLnAx9gNGBu2TQtJJBRLmWnPkvXuTn9VMbc/s1600/P1012891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKNKLb7DtHv8W6xIvIurYLg32BtJHKHhEyUNIMptm8qPHOm-5cPqYEsHOAV0U15S5FYgpwVXdKQDv0H0J8HHs28q4ucv92onAqCFi10YjY_pLnAx9gNGBu2TQtJJBRLmWnPkvXuTn9VMbc/s320/P1012891.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
Among the things he sent me were audio books of the chaos walking trilogy (I highly recommend it) And a monster calls (I also highly recommend that), a monsters of men T-shirt, a signed copy of a monster calls, and of course the card<br />
Methinks it's time to re-live the magic of the chaos walking series for a second time.... (I talk like gollum when i'm excited)<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Left: The audio books<br />
Below: Everything in the package.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-mSMNP8tQPFXH8hpuqS5BZNsJwZwgM6ZaPiUP4ImOtOJaAK-eYYFm01uqA2Qf3uSnzOJNN9IkhsH8t9S8km_x494wtfTlMDxHuLLDTgXmRLdO9_9Gkdnab0yeunhU-L38rJWJcIDejOd/s1600/P1012892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC-mSMNP8tQPFXH8hpuqS5BZNsJwZwgM6ZaPiUP4ImOtOJaAK-eYYFm01uqA2Qf3uSnzOJNN9IkhsH8t9S8km_x494wtfTlMDxHuLLDTgXmRLdO9_9Gkdnab0yeunhU-L38rJWJcIDejOd/s320/P1012892.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
The card read:<br />
<br />
Joseph:<br />
(Which is my brother's name by the way)<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas and happy holidays!<br />
I've heard nothing but wonderful things about "The world" (From people who wouldn't lie!) and in fact it sounds like some of it isn't a million miles away from my own next book for teens (called "more than this") I wish you the very best of luck with this and cant wait to get my own signed copy one day! I hope you like some of this stuff I sent along (No worries if you don't) but also, just to say, you've picked the best job in the world. Some writers complain but I get the sense from the things you've said that you and I know better. Great to have you along for the journey fellow traveler!<br />
All the best and happy holidays,<br />
Patrick Ness<br />
<br />
Thanks to Patrick and Starlight for that!<br />
<br />
<br />
That's it for now. I'm not feeling too great at the moment so I may not be in school tomorrow, so if I don't see anybody, have a great Christmas, or a happy Hanukkah, or a lovely Ramadan, or any other holiday that you celebrate.<br />
<br />
Stay frosty,<br />
<br />
-Joe<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Here's my book, by the way. I'd love to see what everyone thinks so leave a comment below if you have something to say.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="MsoBookTitle"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The world by Joseph Wills</span></span><span class="MsoBookTitle"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
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<span class="MsoBookTitle"><u><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Prologue
</span></u></span><span class="MsoBookTitle"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<st1:place w:st="on"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">South
London</span></st1:place><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">, 18<sup>th</sup>
November, 1986, 8:30 PM<br />
<br />
Herb James silently cracked open the door to the basement. He had been waiting
for this moment for months. Months of snooping.
Hours and Hours of planning. What
happened here could affect the lives of thousands.<br />
Herb scanned each corridor looking down
the barrel of his hunting rifle, making sure that there were no traps. Tripwire mines, trap floorboards, anything
that could pose a threat to him. He slid
open a door and quickly capped two guards in the leg trying to control the
heavy rifle as it almost flew out of his hands.
He was filled with anger and pain, taking him away from his friends and
family as they became aware of what he was doing. Herb knew he was getting closer when he saw a
sign, displaying the character 4. Loads
of people had infiltrated the building, and the few that had got out had said
the lab was at level zero. He suddenly felt
something; he sensed that he was not alone.
He knew that any soldiers were shooting to maim, not kill, but it could
be the end of it all if they got hold of him.
And then, as he opened a metal door to a giant storage room, he was
struck with immense force in his stomach.
A boiling sting spread across his torso, the pain gripping onto his
breath, taking it away from him. And as
he fell to the ground, blood pouring from his stomach and staining the snow
covered floor, he knew it was over. As
the guards began to shout to each other, a few of them taking shots towards
him, he crawled over to a huge steel crate, Tears rolling from his eyes and
blending into his blood. <br />
He had one smokescreen left. With luck
he could get past these guards and just get to the mainframe before he bled
out. <br />
After about two minutes getting ready, Herb decided to go. It was only his first time using weapons, and
he had never used a smokescreen before, but he had remembered what he and his
friends had said about them. Pull the
pin, wait for five seconds for the smokescreen to fill, and then go. He pulled the pin off and feebly threw the
capsule around the crate. He began to
count to five in his head. While he was
doing so, he thought about what had happened in the past few months. <i>One. Two.</i><br />
How stupid it was to stage a break in. <i>Three.
Four.</i> How he had given it
all up for some stupid conspiracy theory.<br />
Sensing what could be his final moments, he stood up with great
difficulty. <i>Five! </i>Herb dashed out into the warehouse, wheezing and sobbing in
pain, but he still ran. He looked up to
see a walkway, and realized that all the soldiers were up there, with that; he
sped up to a very fast run, still weaving around boxes and crates. And finally, with about two seconds to spare,
he reached a second metal door, slid it open, jumped inside, pulled it shut as
hard as he could, and jammed a nearby chair under the handle.<br />
He was physically, and mentally, broken.
He was going to die. He was
certain of it. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t even move his foot. His heart had only stopped pounding when he looked
up to see a single soldier pointing a pistol at his brain. Herb didn’t care anymore. “G-g-g-g-g go o-o-on. D-d-do it.”<br />
The soldier lowered his weapon and pulled the piece of fabric covering half of
his face down to his neck, revealing a calm and sympathetic face. <br />
“You’re in a fatal state. And I’m sorry
for that. I truly am. But I have to do this.” He pointed the gun at
Herb once more. “It’ll save you.” And with that, Herb realized that it wasn’t a
normal gun. “N-n-n-no.” <br />
“Y-You can K-kill m-m-me. B-but y-you’re
n-n-never putting m-me in there,” But it was too late.<br />
Herb didn’t even have time to scream before the soldier’s finger pulled on the
trigger. <br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
South London housing estate, 12<sup>th</sup> April 2011, 4:45<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Laura Graham
had no idea what was going on. A group
of men had just stormed into her flat, brutalized her roommate, and were now
chasing her through the back streets of the estate which she lived in. Her heart was pounding from fatigue and
adrenaline as she hopped a wooden fence into someone’s garden and sprinted
across it. She wondered if she should
just see who the people were, but when she considered stopping, her mind
dismissed the idea. She quickly glanced
behind her before vaulting the fence at the other side of the garden. They were just meters away. Laura landed on the other side of the fence
and collapsed in the street. And then,
when she saw the situation, desperation streaked inside her. The men were closing in from all
directions. She had nowhere to run. She slowly began to realize who these people
were. Why they wanted her. And when she did, she wanted to cry. There was a sudden explosion of noise behind
her and a second after something hit her foot.
Laura squealed in pain and instantly lost her balance. Her foot suddenly felt so warm. And then the pain came. She realized that someone had shot her in the
foot. Weeping from the pain, she could
do nothing but watch as a masked man in full body armour began to bandage her
foot as another man injected her with something. A few seconds later she was out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Cambridge, 14<sup>th</sup>
of April, 2011, 8:36<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">John Ronen
had just clicked on the link for the conspiracy site he had become addicted to
when his mother called up to him in his room.
<br />
“John, there’s a man here to-“ His mum was cut off there. What followed was a loud thump.<br />
<i>What the hell?</i> John thought. He got up from his office chair and
cautiously walked to the door. He put
his hand on the handle, but shockingly, it swung open before he could do it. There, at the door, stood someone who John
didn’t expect in his wildest dreams to see.
A man in full body armour. As
soon as he saw John, the man plunged a syringe into his arm, letting him fall
to the ground soon after. In John’s last
second of consciousness he realized what was happening, and tried to scream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Chapter 1</span></u></b><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><br />
<br />
“Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine!” Daniel
Edward’s eyes burned as a figure pulled open a pair of curtains at the far end
of the room. “What? Where am I?
Who are you?” The last thing he
had remembered was being in the houses of parliament, on a tour. Now he was laying in a huge king sized bed in
a house he had never seen in his life. <br />
The man who had opened the curtains causally strolled to the bedside and
perched on the end of it. <br />
“How ya’ doin? That head o’ yours alright?”
The man seemed very friendly to Daniel, almost as if they had known each
other for years. Daniel didn’t think he
had ever had so many different emotions at once. Angry, scared, shocked, puzzled, excited,
and mostly in a state of complete disarray.
He needed answers. “Who the hell
are you!? What happened to me?! Where’s my mum?” The man stayed calm. <br />
“Alright, settle down now. Name’s Herb.
Pleasure to meet you!” Herb eagerly stuck out a hand, which Daniel took
reluctantly after some hesitation. “We
saw you wandering around out there, presumed you were a newcomer. So we did what any neighbourly person would
do. We took you in. Oh, and you had a nasty scar on your
forehead, so I patched that up for you!”
As a reflex, Daniel reached to his forehead, feeling tiny stitches
across his brow. “But where’s my mum?
What happened to <st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city>, because that’s
not <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place>,” He
said, pointing to the window that was revealing a wide road, dotted with colourful
houses sitting at the pavements. A
female English voice suddenly called out from downstairs. “Come get it!” <br />
Herb then stood up from the bedside and walked towards the door. “Why don’t you come down for some breakfast?
No rush though. Just come down the stairs, second door on the right.”<br />
“But-“Daniel was just about to erupt, but the look on Herb’s face told him to
play along. So Daniel kept silent. Herb creaked open the door and slipped out of
the room. After 5 minutes, Daniel
managed to get out of bed, feeling oddly numb, and limp over to a long mirror
on the right wall. He inspected his
head. His dark brown, slightly long
spiked hair looked like it always did.
Underneath his hair, on his forehead, there was a scabbed over scar, as
Herb had said. There were about five
stitches woven neatly into it. He took a
peek at what he was wearing, a dark blue open robe with striped pyjamas. He worked up the courage to leave the
bedroom, shaking with fear, and get down the huge wooden staircase, and into
the kitchen. He was struck by light as
he entered. A huge window covered the
whole of the far wall, light flooding in, blinding Daniel temporarily. After adjusting his eyes to the light, he
looked down to see a small wooden table with four chairs. Herb occupied one of them, smiling politely
at him. His lightly wrinkled face and
cropped blonde hair were illuminated perfectly in the light. “Daniel! Come in!
Sit down.” <br />
“How do you know my name?” Herb produced
a laminated piece of paper from his pocket, like a driver’s license. <br />
“Had your ID card on you,” Herb started to read information from the card. “Name: Daniel Edwards, Age: 16 years. Mother: Rose Edwards, Father: Nicolas
Edwards-“Daniel cut in, shocked. <br />
“Where did that come from? I never had an ID card, and if I did, who made it?” <br />
“Hey, we all got ID cards. Gotta carry
em’ around or you have to go all the way to the capital, up north-“<br />
“Entry time? What’s that?” Herb quickly shook his head in a shut up kind of
way, and with a nervous chuckle, spluttered the words “All in good time,
Daniel,” and inserted the ID card into his pocket.<br />
Daniel was still in complete shock. He
had woken up in a place that felt far away from London, in a house of complete
strangers, someone had printed every detail of his life onto a piece of paper,
and just had to ‘play along’. But he was
so scared, he decided that listening to Herb was the best thing he could do at
the moment. All the time he had been
talking to Herb, he hadn’t realized, another two people were in the room. A girl, around 19 years old was standing at a
stove, flipping bacon around in a sizzling pan, and a boy, who looked more
Daniel’s age, sitting across the table from him. “Of course! I forgot to introduce you t’ the
other members of the house. Daniel, meet
John. John, Daniel.” John smiled
awkwardly and held out a stiff hand, which Daniel took. <br />
“And this here is Laura. She’s an
excellent cook.” Laura instantly seemed friendlier. “Hi! Pleasure to meet you.”<br />
“Erm.. Hi,” Daniel was still trying not to shake from the confusion of the
weird place.<br />
Herb delved into his pockets and brought out two more laminated cards. “Two outside passes. How ‘bout you skip education today and I’ll
show ya’ around your new home?” Soon
after a very appetizing breakfast was served. <br />
It looked like two rinds of normal bacon, but as soon as Daniel bit off a
piece, he discovered it wasn’t bacon at all. <br />
“What is this-“Daniel blurted before realizing what he was saying. Herb looked puzzled. <br />
“Are you sure you didn’t hurt your taste buds last night?” Herb replied sarcastically. “It’s good old fashioned Rhubarb flavoured bacon.” <br />
Daniel tried to act as if he had heard of the disgusting idea. “Oh! Sorry.”
He looked at Laura. “No offense.”
<br />
“None taken.” Laura replied
cheerily. She was acting as if Herb took
strangers in daily.<br />
After choking down the horrible bacon, Herb and John got up to get dressed, but
as Herb walked out of the room Daniel grabbed him subtly by the wrist and
whispered, “I want answers.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Daniel flung open the huge mahogany wardrobe
across the room from the bed.
Surprisingly, there wasn’t much variety.
A pair of suit trousers, a worn T-shirt about two sizes too small for
Daniel, a pair of grey cargo trousers, a huge hoodie, and a Women’s frock. In the end, Daniel settled for the cargo
trousers and the small t-shirt. <br />
Daniel collapsed onto the bed. What had
just happened? Where was he? Where was
his family? And who was Herb? Was he a murderer? Had he locked up his Mother? Or was he
dead? Was this heaven? Daniel had to hold back tears. He would play along until Herb gave him
answers, and if he didn’t, Daniel would run.
He would call the police. He
would find his mother. Suddenly, there
was a knock on the door, and Herb crept in.” Are ya coming or are you gonna lie
there all day?” Daniel reluctantly stood
up, the tiny shirt choking him. It was a
crimson red, with the word <i>football</i>
printed across the front in white.<br />
They descended the giant winding staircase and watched as John and Laura flung
open the door and disappears down the road, which, as the name suggested, was
scattered with maple trees.<br />
Daniel got really creeped out when he stepped outside. It was humid.
Normally, Daniel wouldn’t have even thought about it twice. But something caught his mind. It was winter. He had seen the weather. It was supposed to be bitterly cold for the
next few weeks. Everywhere in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Britain</st1:country-region></st1:place>. So that came down to two things. He wasn’t in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">England</st1:place></st1:country-region> anymore. He had been given a sleeping pill and shipped
off to a warm European country. Or, he
had been in some sort of coma. Asleep
for weeks. Months. Maybe even
years. But, Herb had said he had seen
Daniel stumbling across the street last night.
The very night before. He
couldn’t have been asleep for that long.
This was too weird. Daniel
followed Herb down the driveway, taking in his surroundings. It looked like a normal day. The next door neighbour was gardening. A man wearing a brown jumpsuit was getting
into his car a few doors up. Laura and
John were strolling down the road, accompanied by two other kids. There. In the corner of his eye. A man wearing body armour. Dead white, full body armour. A full face helmet displaying different
accessories. A thin, blacked out visor
covered his eyes. Just above that, a
torch was taped neatly onto the metal that covered the man’s face. Two small metal grills were fixed onto the
metal helmet, displaying the man’s mouth.
That was the only part of the man Daniel could see. He had to be police. Or military.
But either way, Daniel didn’t think twice. He launched himself forward, just about to
shout out to the man, when Herb pulled him back with great force. One small yanking motion and he was back
where he was in the first place. That
was it. He couldn’t trust Herb at
all. Why else would He stop Daniel from
interacting with the police? He had to
get away. But before he knew it, Herb
had shoved him into the passenger seat, locked the door and pulled out of the
driveway. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Daniel glared at Herb as he drove through the identical streets of maple drive,
chattering happily as he did. After a
while, Herb realized that Daniel was staring at him and mumbled,”What?” <br />
“Why did you just bundle me up and throw me in the car?” Daniel replied bitterly.<br />
Herb continued to stare at Daniel blankly.
After about twenty seconds Daniel huffed and said, “When I was walking
up to that policeman!” Through clenched teeth.
“Oh, that was just an Abrexi corporation officer. There good, they protect us, but they just
don’t like to be annoyed.” He said it in
a kind of nervous tone. “No
offense.” Herb added. Daniel remembered the man’s armour. He had never seen a police officer that
looked like that, not even on the news.
He looked like Robocop. That old
movie. Daniel was definitely considering
that he was in the future. Even though
Herb had said he had seen him last night.
But Herb could have been lying.
Easily. Daniel didn’t remember a
thing about last night. There was no
time. Daniel had to move. And fast. This madman was going to kill him, he knew
it.<br />
Daniel didn’t even wait a split second.
He spun round and tugged at the door handle. Locked. He glanced out the window. And his heart skipped a beat. The dreamy, residential area they had been in
minutes ago had been replaced by a dead, barren desert. It had all gone. Daniel gave up. Forget about Herb killing him, he was about
to kill Herb. <br />
Tears streaming down his face, Daniel broke down. “Where are we??!!” Herb stayed silent. Ignoring him.
“What’s happening?! Tell me!!!!”
Then Herb halted the car and started talking. Quickly and seriously. His voice had lost all tone of
Cheeriness. “Listen very carefully and don’t
interrupt. You are in great danger
here. We all are. Not from me.
From them. Abrexi. If you show any sign that you want to get
outside, they’ll kill you. They even
monitor conversations. I’m not even sure
we’re safe talking now.” <br />
Daniel started to feel different. It was
the urgency in Herb’s voice. Daniel
suddenly felt like he could trust Herb.
Like he should trust Herb.
“Daniel, I am extremely sorry for that this has happened to you. But you have to trust me. In ten days, I can explain everything. I will help you find your mother. And I’ll get you out of this god forsaken
place. But you have to trust me!” <br />
Daniel had temporarily forgotten about his mother. “Where is my mother?” <br />
“I don’t know, but I’m sure she’s safe.
And your father is-“Herb pulled the weird ID card from Daniel’s pocket,
stared at it for a few seconds, tossed it back onto Daniels lap and finished
off his sentence. “Still dead.” <br />
Daniel didn’t have another option. He
had to stick with Herb. Something told
him that it was the right thing to do. <br />
“Ok.” Daniel said wearily.<br />
Herb smiled and nodded at Daniel. He was
going to stick with Herb for ten days.
That’s when Herb promised that he would explain everything. If he took any longer than that, he would
give Herb one chance to explain himself, and if he didn’t, he would run. <br />
The sound of a car stopping filled Daniels ears. When he looked out of Herb’s window, he saw a
car idling next to the one they were in.
Daniel saw two Abrexi officers sitting in the car. After what Herb had said the look of them
sent a chill down his spine. <br />
“Everything all right here?” Asked one
of them. <br />
And then Herb went back to the way he was when Daniel woke up. The cheery Londoner. <br />
“Its fine, officer, my car stalled is all.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">(Keep in mind I was ten when I wrote that part, so be nice) </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-15434452698484551652012-12-13T06:45:00.001-08:002012-12-13T06:45:34.855-08:00Some info on the bookSorry I haven't been posting in a while. It's because I- well, i just haven't been posting in a while.<div>
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Here's a nutshell sized update on my life since my last post-</div>
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Still getting book published</div>
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Still writing Red Zone</div>
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Getting tempted to write some short stories</div>
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Started reading the diviners, making it the fourth book i'm currently reading (The power of six, the true tale of billy dean, the hobbit, the diviners)</div>
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Caught a cold, or a virus, or an infection or something</div>
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That's it.</div>
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Oh yeah, I got some clarification on publicity for my book when it's going to be published. If you're planning on buying it, it'll be on amazon, on kindle and adobe glassbook (I didn't know adobe had an e-reader) and hopefully in mainstream book shops. The reason for the "Maybe" is because it's the book shops choice to stock it or not, so we'll see. Of course, you will be able to find it in libraries as well. Me and my family can pursue any publicity ideas we want to as well, so that's cool.</div>
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People have been asking what the book is about a lot, and when they do, my brain decides to turn off and then I have no idea what the book is about. So I'm gonna put a little description here so I can tell people to come here if they want to know.<br /><br />This is the "blurb" an editor wrote me for my gift copy at penguin (still loving that, by the way):</div>
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Daniel Edwards wakes up in a world that is not his own. There are people he doesn't know, a school he doesn't understand, and, most worryingly of all, policemen who are willing to kill. One thing's for sure: If he stays here, he'll die.</div>
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But how will he escape the Abrexi- a corporation with seemingly unbelievable power?</div>
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He must put his strength, intelligence and courage to the test against an enemy he could never have imagined.</div>
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That pretty much sums it up well. It's better than my mum's explanation (Kind of a future setting) and mine, that's even worse (It's quite hard to explain)</div>
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Finally, I'm going to start putting some of my writing on wattpad, so check out my profile (http://www.wattpad.com/user/The7OfClubs) regularly if you want to read some more of my stuff.</div>
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Wow, this blog has steered right into the direction of "All about my writing" now. That was not intended.</div>
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That's all for now. Thanks for reading.</div>
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Stay frosty,</div>
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-Joe</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-19660255017999899342012-12-10T01:35:00.000-08:002012-12-10T01:36:36.765-08:00Challenge.... Completed"I would love to be have a book i've written published by time i'm 13, at the most." That was the challenge I set myself in year 5 of primary school when we had to give ourselves targets for the future. Well, Challenge completed.<br />
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On Friday we got a call from Sarah at starlight. My mum answered and I knew that something was going on as she talked. As it turns out, Live it publishing, a company dedicated to getting new authors off the ground, loved the book and want to publish it. Cue (happy) scream.<br />
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I still can't wrap my head around the fact that in two months time, my book will be on the shelves for anyone to buy. I can't comprehend that a professional publishing company has read my book, and is prepared to put a lot of money into it because they believe it can sell. It still feels like The world (That's the book, by the way) is just a daydream, and that really, it'll never be successful. <br />
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Thanks so much to starlight for securing this deal, to live it publishing for believing in my book, and to whoever was round my house the day I came up with the idea. I think we had a Nerf war and then I dreamed about Nerf wars that night which led me to the dream that spawned the idea. Phew.<br />
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Also, my internet blogging crusade thingy is not yet over. I still need to get the blog even more popular so people can find out about the book.<br />
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Well, that's it for now. Keep coming back here for information on the book and notifications of events / where to buy the book when it comes out.<br />
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Oh yeah, and I've began my journey through the pile of books that penguin gave me. First up: The true story of Billy dean. I'm about halfway through and i'm considering started the power of six as well.<br />
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Stay frosty!<br />
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-JoeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-72673757715159987192012-12-05T04:09:00.004-08:002012-12-05T10:29:04.875-08:00Puffin/ Penguin booksBooks. From the moment you walk in to penguin offices at the strand, they're everywhere. On the walls, in the tables. I just wanted a make a massive pile of them and fall asleep in it. <br />
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So, this is the anticipated "Penguin books" Post. Settle down, because it's gonna be a long one. Make some tea, or coffee. If that's not your thing, then maybe just some water. Or milk, everyone loves milk. Orange juice would be okay, if you fancy it. I wouldn't say to break out the liquor though. If you're drinking before 3 then you got yourself a problem.<br />
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But enough about beverages, here we go.<br />
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At 4 'o clock yesterday afternoon, Me and my parents met up with Sarah, the wonderful person from starlight who's been working on my wish, and arranged the visit, and entered 80 the Strand (You know something's going to be posh when the building's name is it's address) as we entered the reception we were handed VIP badges and clipped them to our clothes. I suddenly felt very special. After 5 minutes in the reception we met Laura, an editor at puffin. as we navigated the confusing and disorientating halls of the magnificent building (I'm still dizzy from it) I was surprised to hear that she had read my book. It sounded weird to actually hear the opinion of it from someone I didn't know.<br />
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The tour started off like most tours do. We were lead through what could possibly be the best office in the world, at least for me. I mean, the books. Seriously, THE BOOKS! I'm tempted to do one of those beloved children's poems where it's a list. They were...<br />
On the counters...<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFx-2qIDLLKfhyphenhyphen3CoZ9NukdWokSV6-ohHMyjMlMyMyiq4R866TX2ugFMeX1-aHuWeZZpWoyHbEiKfVwOdUBdACidyU0uYLwq5AoR9kxfKSnJfxI26RDHd1Gm1f16FVbtwTgub_QB4nW_j/s1600/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFx-2qIDLLKfhyphenhyphen3CoZ9NukdWokSV6-ohHMyjMlMyMyiq4R866TX2ugFMeX1-aHuWeZZpWoyHbEiKfVwOdUBdACidyU0uYLwq5AoR9kxfKSnJfxI26RDHd1Gm1f16FVbtwTgub_QB4nW_j/s320/027.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMTWonSMbRqu4wk0_lTggi0dFMDZIdvK4lb0gQjzwcGGYfOB2e9BlC-p5k1GiUICJFxiOw7isHtEB-Fzu75FPsv5j3ctvvGADiFU8aZ9MpH_E85nFJjTbu0x47PmAOpgsPJVh4DFX8E4G/s1600/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaMTWonSMbRqu4wk0_lTggi0dFMDZIdvK4lb0gQjzwcGGYfOB2e9BlC-p5k1GiUICJFxiOw7isHtEB-Fzu75FPsv5j3ctvvGADiFU8aZ9MpH_E85nFJjTbu0x47PmAOpgsPJVh4DFX8E4G/s320/029.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was taking pictures on my ipod so forgive me<br />
for the shoddy quality.</td></tr>
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And that's pretty much it. But still, it was amazing how many there were. I met a woman who gave me an insight on the process of picking the size, paper and font of the books and their covers. I was sent off from this stop with my very first gift of the occasion, a nice hardback copy of the latest diary of a wimpy kid book. I also met a woman who worked on creating picture books, who demonstrated how they put together children's books. (Not literally) After that I met Ben, one of Penguin/Puffin's designers. He gave me some books which he had designed the cover for (I wasn't sure if I could have it or not, so I was just standing awkwardly with the books until it was confirmed I could take them) Ben then came along with us to the top floor, where we entered a spacious private conference room with a great view and some giant surprises. I am talking, of course, about the plate of Ben's cookies on the table. Not really, but that was a perk. Firstly, we stepped out onto the balcony to admire the amazing view of a lit up London from above. It was a rare opportunity to see the unusual beauty of the city from an amazing viewpoint like that. Plus I could swear the building to the left was where that last scene of Skyfall was filmed.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEOPcD2apJlKFQchueeZSeb84t2j2wHpxwAHR978T63LgjWx9ZVGhNH36ITK_W6co2nvJiu5ezr_XzI5AEFV-Hgt5c9mzwDwB59wXYZsaN4AmGrDoOWUOAPT8PEivwlGXRM-ZRzz6jIdy/s1600/031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEOPcD2apJlKFQchueeZSeb84t2j2wHpxwAHR978T63LgjWx9ZVGhNH36ITK_W6co2nvJiu5ezr_XzI5AEFV-Hgt5c9mzwDwB59wXYZsaN4AmGrDoOWUOAPT8PEivwlGXRM-ZRzz6jIdy/s320/031.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That was the best shot I could get of the skyfall building.<br />
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Once we were back inside it was time to address the two gift bags I had spotted before. Ben handed me a book from one of them and I stared right through it. At first I didn't recognize it, and my mum and dad were talking amongst themselves. But then I recognized the name on the book. When I regained consciousness 20 minutes later, I was ecstatic. It was my book. Let me explain. Penguin has, very generously, printed 3 copies of The World, my story, complete with a cover Ben designed, and a blurb an editor wrote, and gifted them to me. I'd like to step out of this and thank everyone at penguin very much for taking the time to read my book and print it for me. Later on, on the way home, we were discussing about what to do with them like they were the rings from "Lord of the rings." "We'll give one to the dwarves, one to the hobbits, and the third one can go to that Sauron bloke. He seems nice."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDts2u2Jjjw9ngHYaluYVhyphenhyphendt9odJTaUnYxQoywpf8g4wQC4LsfiAjOjU7AekO53uEO-cqsHg5c-gTOd5bdVJg-EJqF2oKFlfqO3jYcubviRcpQeSE7STp2hdmEXWnPyJHtK6nu-02V8iy/s1600/P1010012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDts2u2Jjjw9ngHYaluYVhyphenhyphendt9odJTaUnYxQoywpf8g4wQC4LsfiAjOjU7AekO53uEO-cqsHg5c-gTOd5bdVJg-EJqF2oKFlfqO3jYcubviRcpQeSE7STp2hdmEXWnPyJHtK6nu-02V8iy/s320/P1010012.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Ben with the book.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKPdXpKdGQK0emQJMWgNkpBxUyQEXX49YfT47hvrJ7e8lWSR2Gi50JlKE16C_GwZkkxGHN8inPtHcy1wVaprctD-JJCUW9NU-hWWaoo7ky_s4eFa_7s6W01OcdtXJe9_HSCuCCZ8Btagi/s1600/P1010034.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKPdXpKdGQK0emQJMWgNkpBxUyQEXX49YfT47hvrJ7e8lWSR2Gi50JlKE16C_GwZkkxGHN8inPtHcy1wVaprctD-JJCUW9NU-hWWaoo7ky_s4eFa_7s6W01OcdtXJe9_HSCuCCZ8Btagi/s320/P1010034.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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I unloaded the rest of the gift bags, which were full to the brim with stuff. Today we calculated I was gifted £170 worth of penguin books. Here's what they gave me:<br />
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Assassin's creed: The secret crusade by Oliver Bowden<br />
Assassin's creed: Revelations by Oliver Bowden<br />
Assassin's creed: Forsaken by Oliver Bowden<br />
Colin Fischer by Ashley Edward Miller and Zack Stentz<br />
The true tale of the monster billy dean telt by hisself by David Almond<br />
No easy day: The navy seal mission that killed osama bin laden by Mark Owen<br />
The serpent's shadow by Rick Riordan<br />
The power of six by Pittacus Lore<br />
<span style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">The three musketeers by Alexandre Dumas</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWyFeeKf97VNqq-ax6xxBRf96IGBjOFiT4A9mgZrJ9KbhB0x55g6mOTTFB2X7jKTTmEQ31-J09AoxpWLyaVyYhSLtP0W19E6ZsjPmvOcKncHLM1KQ1aNBu6EpSA2DLRTUNqNk7ZwLGgmYi/s1600/P1010036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWyFeeKf97VNqq-ax6xxBRf96IGBjOFiT4A9mgZrJ9KbhB0x55g6mOTTFB2X7jKTTmEQ31-J09AoxpWLyaVyYhSLtP0W19E6ZsjPmvOcKncHLM1KQ1aNBu6EpSA2DLRTUNqNk7ZwLGgmYi/s320/P1010036.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love a big book.</td></tr>
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Gladiator: Fight for Freedom by Simon Scarrow<br />
The sacrifice by Charlie Higson<br />
Fairy tales from the brothers Grimm<br />
Diary of a wimpy kid: the third wheel by Jeff Kinney<br />
A DVD of I am number four<br />
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Amazingly, out of all those books, there's only<br />
One I have already, and all of them i'm<br />
interested in reading.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcUAGENtYkQyPLUXY2SM-fRvefEMZF-_4RwK88G5KdDU5OTBVeDgJiil4x8SHkF5l07xISXnOWfkv05_pFE94XX_Gd-xa1Zdq-waFNSi6Mqz-cPrG-gFc2JW5W8WcAZSeeNgt66_YJxOw/s1600/P1010027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJcUAGENtYkQyPLUXY2SM-fRvefEMZF-_4RwK88G5KdDU5OTBVeDgJiil4x8SHkF5l07xISXnOWfkv05_pFE94XX_Gd-xa1Zdq-waFNSi6Mqz-cPrG-gFc2JW5W8WcAZSeeNgt66_YJxOw/s320/P1010027.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of my goodies together.</td></tr>
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After all this gift giving I had a long talk with Laura and Ben about my writing, the book, how I like to write, and about my new book, when suddenly, there's a knock on the door, and the biggest surprise begins (This one is up there with the cookies) A woman announces that there's a visitor for me and in pops Charlie Higson (I'm sure everyone knows him, but if not, he's a famous adult and young adult author who has also written and produced TV shows) At right about this point my already dropped jaw falls off. He takes a seat and explains that he's read my book and that he really enjoyed it, and what followed was a long talk about reading and writing. It was amazing to talk to a famous author who's books I've read and to know how he plans his books and how long it takes to write them. Charlie signed my copy of his latest book in "the enemy" series (Check those out, they're pretty damn good) and was on his way. and so ends the epic tale of gifts, cover design, authors and cookies. </div>
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I'd like to thank Sarah and the starlight foundation for arranging this amazing experience, and helping to make my dream come true. Thank you as well to Penguin for the opportunity, taking the time out to create an early copy of my book, to Laura for the tour and Ben for creating the cover of the book and the tour as well.</div>
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This has been an amazing experience.</div>
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I'm off to go and surround myself in books. Hope you enjoyed this extensive post.</div>
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Stay frosty</div>
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-Joe</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-71891696647569567132012-12-03T10:18:00.000-08:002012-12-03T10:18:09.797-08:00London!I really should think before I write. Remember the last post I did (or the one before that.... I don't remember) Where I said I'd be writing a new book? Well, change of plans... I've really been enjoying writing Red Zone and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to write the other one or not. I wanted to write a book, but not the one I had planned. So yeah, I decided to write Red zone as a full book instead of a short story! Yaaaaay! But yeah, this is gonna be a great book, and I'm having real fun writing it. I'll still put the first part on wattpad for all to read.<br />
<br />
<br />
On a completely different note, is it only me that chooses everything they want for christmas and then try not to think of anything else in fear you'll change your mind? That keeps happening to me. I've decided I wanted a kindle and then I hear what others are getting and I'm like, "Damn, Do I REALLY want a kindle?"<br /><br />I'm gonna put this hear to stop me from doing this.<br />"Yes, I do want a kindle."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm going To PENGUIN TOMORROW! Sorry, that was an unnecessary usage of caps. Anyway, it's extremely excited. The tour starts at four, but I get the day off school to avoid me becoming a potato for the week. That was a bad simile/metaphor/ whatever that was. Potatoes don't get tired. So that'll be fun. On Wednesday/Thursday I'll make a post and tell you all about it. Apparently I can take pictures so it'd be great to get them on as well.<br />
<br />
That's all for now people.<br /><br />Stay frosty.<br /><br />-JoeAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-36119596993200275502012-12-01T13:37:00.000-08:002012-12-02T00:42:14.123-08:00Ok, Ok, here's the writingIt's saturday (I'm so clever) but I know it as "Counter Strike Saturday." Over the last month I started this. Let me clarify. Counter-strike: source is a cult ten year old PC game that was originally a mod. People still play on it today, including me. I'm not sure when I started, but now every saturday at eight o clock I put the headphones on and prepare to play counter strike. I have to admit, it's freaking fun. Anyway, i'm doing this now because I got bored of counter strike early today.<br />
<br />
In other news, there's a wind farm being built near my home. Everyone thought that they were going to be terrible, they would be an eyesore and they would be so loud no one would be able to sleep. They're absolutely awesome though. (I was never against them, by the way. Alternative energy sources ARE the answer!) I think when people are about to say something bad about the wind farm they look at it and get hypnotized by the turbines spinning and then suddenly start spouting positive things about it. it was their plan all along! Spread the word!!!<br />
<br />
Thirdly, I've decided to start using twitter properly. If you want to hear me talk about things in 140 characters (i'm opposed to the word limit by the way. I'm very vivid in descriptions...) then go to my twittering account at the link below:<br />
https://twitter.com/<br />
I heard that people do flash fiction on twitter also, capitalizing the small word limit. I might just have a go at that.<br />
<br />
Ok, now, what everyone's been reading to. Some writing. Anyone here heard of a competition called "Around the world in 80 words?" Well you have now. It's a short story contest for children from schools all around the UK to compete in, and like suggested in the title, the stories must be 80 words. Yes, you heard me. That's.... Difficult. Not Mental maths difficult (Admit it, if someone asks you what "6+8 is" you need some time to think) but getting a cat in a santa hat difficult. Anyway, I wound up writing 6 of them. Here they are!<br />
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#1<br />
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You wake up
to banging on the door. As soon as you
open your eyes you remember what happened last night. Your heart leaps in panic and guilt. The only memory you have is hazy. You remember a flash of light and a
scream. On your bedside table is a gun. It confirms your worst fears. There’s another knock. A voice from outside says they’re
police. They’re here.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
Police at the door.</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
Gun on the table.</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
What do you do?</span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">#2</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you don’t
make it out of here then the world has ended.
All that you’ve done has lead up to this. Now you need to escape. As you vault a log you hear the harrowing
swish of their capes. They’re not far
behind now. You can see the clearing
ahead. You’re almost out. Weaving in and
out of the giant trees, you suddenly stumble over something, a tree root. You can’t get back up. <br />
It’s all over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">#3</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The floor
tremors and everyone is thrown around.
You hit the ground with a thump, your head spinning.<br />
“The hull is almost breached!” Shouts the engineer. You stagger up and peer at a monitor on the
wall. The hulking enemy ship is
suspended in space. <br />
“We need to fire the missiles.” Says the strategist. You need to issue the order. No one on the ship can survive
otherwise. 100 people on this ship, or
100 on the other. Can you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">#4</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You stumble
across the burning room, coughing heavily as you do. You can hear the engulfing
fire crackle, a noise so loud yet so quiet you can feel the heat up against
your body, making you feel like it’s everywhere. You can barely see through the smoke stinging
your eyes. You finally make it to the
open window. You have to jump out, or
you’ll be killed in the fire. <br />
You climb onto the ledge, close your eyes, and jump.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">#5</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A monster’s
howl. A ghoul’s groan. I’m sure something’s inside. The sheets are drenched in sweat. It’s just the wind. It’s just the pipes, I tell myself, but I
don’t believe it. The floorboards
creak. It came from the stairs. Someone is coming up. And another one. I try to take in a breath, but I can’t. I need to get out. I’m too terrified to move. There’s another cackle outside. More
creaking.<br />
It’s coming.<br />
It’s not pipes.<br />
It’s coming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">#6</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">There’s
nothing inside the truck.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">That was my
only hope.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">After the second one, there
are hardly any more people.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">My throat
feels dry and raspy already.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s only
been five hours since I ran out of water.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I need to push through.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">However
thirsty I am, I have to get back to the town.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">See her one more time.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">I reach
the top of hill and what I see in the distance shocks me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
A shadow in the distance.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">I'd like to know which ones you, the readers, think are best, so comment with which one you like. I'll leave a link below to the around the world in 80 words competition if anyone's interested. As for now....</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Stay frosty!<br /><br />-Joe</span></span></div>
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<br />
http://www.youngwriters.co.uk/80words-secondary-competition.php<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-57242022678945631662012-11-29T00:40:00.001-08:002013-01-22T03:55:44.629-08:00Some news!This week is one of the shortest school weeks for me. I get Wednesdays off, as I said earlier, and then today is "academic planning day" at my school, where you meet with your tutor and "Discuss your progress and goals." Let me show you an average academic planning day.<br />
Tutor: So, hows school going?<br />
Me: Good.<br />
Tutor: Are your lessons going well?<br />
Me: Yep.<br />
Tutor: have you joined some clubs?<br />
Me: I have.<br />
Tutor: Do you have any problems you have to discuss?<br />
Me: Hmmmm... Nope.<br />
Tutor: Okay, that's great. see you next week.<br />
Me: Bye.<br />
<br />
Now because of that, we get the rest of the day off. Yaaay! And Friday is teacher training day. Again, Yaaay!<br />
<br />
I want to start this post with a thanks. The blog of joe has been up with a week and since then had 205 pageviews. It's safe to say this is the most popular online venture I have done. Well, excluding a water fight video I filmed and posted on youtube that got 1,300 views. Anyway, thanks to everyone for reading the blog, sharing it on facebook and telling your friends about it. <br />
<br />
Also, it's that time again. More writing at 250 pageviews! I have some things i'd like to share on the blog that I wrote earlier this week. They're 6, VERY short stories- I've said too much already. Wait till 250 views.<br />
<br />
Finally, there's a big decision that i'm thinking of making. Well, when I say thinking of making, it means i've pretty much made the decision. I have a habit of quickly picking things without looking around for other stuff. So if I was shopping for, say, a kindle, somebody would tell me the keyboard one has free 3G on it and i'd just be like, "Ooh, I want that one!" Without looking at the others. (Glad I didn't decide I wanted the keyboard one, apparently it's the worst.) I'm rambling again, aren't I? Gotta stop doing that...<br />
So, back to this mystical decision of mine. I've heard that since I wrote my book, my writing skills have improved dramatically. Hearing this, I'm starting to contemplate writing another novel. Yes, I only just finished my last book, but if you love doing it and it doesn't hurt anyone, why stop? This idea is one i've been sitting on since 2010 when I first envisaged the world it's set in (That sounded a little pretentious, but i'll go with it.) Ever since I sort of built up the world's lore as a hobby. i've changed it and changed it around so much to make it feel right. For this reason, it seemed like a really good book idea where i've got everything set to go. I really didn't want to muck it up and after about two failed book attempts, I decided to wait until I felt ready to do it. <br />
<br />
Now is that time.<br />
<br />
<br />
Damn, that was epic!<br />
<br />
But i have to refrain from writing this first, because I still want to finish Red zone, my 4 volume short story i shared with y'all the other day. I'm really enjoying writing it and I don't want to abandon it because I get caught up in "Novel Fever."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That's all for now peoples. Keep on sharing!<br />
<br />
As always, Stay frosty.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
-Joe<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-50393839074028835232012-11-26T10:35:00.001-08:002012-11-26T10:35:45.163-08:00There's no feeling like mild excitement...Everyone probably knows that in a school science lab the chairs are backless stools. now, because of my hypermobility, I can't sit on these for more than five minutes before i'm in agony from back pain. So, it was arranged that a stool with a back would be given to me in my science lesson. The only problem is, though, in other lessons the other kids take it to their places, so when I come in the teacher tells me to get the chair for myself and I end up doing a walk of shame down the classroom with my chair, because to everyone else it looks like i'm just taking the chair. I just want to clarify that to everyone in my science class.<br />
<br />
In other news, Someone threw a football at my head today. Ow. It was intentional as well. I know, right?<br />
If the people who threw that at me are reading this, i'll give you some friendly advice. Don't do that. It'll probably come back to you in a bad way.<br /><br />Anyway, when I said I was mildly excited, That was another lie. It was a good blog post title. I'm actually very excited. Remember how I said the starlight foundation was trying to get my book published? Probably not. Just a reminder in case you don't remember: They are doing that. Well, they approached a buttload of publishers (Buttload, so poetic) about the book. One of them was the extremely popular publishers penguin. They didn't want to publish my book, but they did offer me a tour of their offices. And, it's next week. By the way, they scheduled that months ago. It's not that short notice.<br />So yeah, super pumped for that.<br />
<br />
Also, I though i'd give you an update on how the search for a publisher has going.<br /><br />Have you seen that picture on facebook, where it says need experience to get a job, need a job to get experience? That sums up publishing a first book. So starlight suggested to go down the self-publishing route. For those of you who don't understand just how literal self-publishing is, it's where one would print their book their selves and promote it themselves. We're really thinking of doing this because it's a great way to get your name out there in the authoring world.<br />
<br />
That's all for now.<br />
<br />
Stay frosty,<br />
<br />
-Joe<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-67458052256535466052012-11-25T05:52:00.001-08:002012-11-25T05:53:55.650-08:00150 Pageviews!Welcome! (again) I'm still trying to find a sign on phrase. I'm starting to think welcome (again) is actually pretty good. It's no "How's it going bros" Though.<br />
<br />
I've hit 150 pageviews! yaaaaayyy! It's been such a long... three day journey. Like I promised, I'll post some writing on here for everyone to read. This time, i'll give you the first few pages of a new short story "event" That I'm working on. Sophisticated, am I right? The idea is it's four short stories that carry on from each other, and when you put them together, it makes a very, very short book. It's called Red zone. Fun fact: I originally named it dead zone, but I have been informed that Dead zone is a Stephen King novel. That guy is always stealing my ideas....<br />
<br />
The story is set on another world, and about a teenage boy called Milo, who grows up generations after a cataclysmic event that threw civilization back centuries. He's left his "Hometown" (hinting at something with the quotes there) to go on a pilgrimage across the country, but to get where he needs to go, he must pass through the "Red zone," which isn't exactly a holiday resort. What was once a giant metropolis, is now a place full of warring factions, ash storms and collapsing buildings. Have fun!<br />
<br />
Just a footnote: When I said "Goes on a pilgrimage" earlier, it may sound like it's a massive plot hole I can't be bothered to patch, but the idea is you find out where he's going later on. Anyway, enjoy!<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">RED ZONE: DO NOT ENTER…</span></b><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Reads
the sign standing on the side of the road.
I stare at it, squinting through the ash flying through the air. It’s a rusty old sign. The message on it has been painted over some
directions that the sign had originally been used for, by the looks of it. It’s scrawled in red paint. One of the only memories I have of my dad, my
real dad, was a piece of wisdom he gave me.
<i>If something is written in red
paint, listen to it.</i> But I can’t
this time. If I ever want to see him
again, I can’t. I take my rusty old
hunting rifle from the bonnet of the car that I had put it on and continue down
the highway, as I have for an hour or two now.
It’s raised up on a bridge and it leads right into the city. Below me is just wasteland. I tried walking down there, and I almost sunk
in the ash. Of course, there’s still ash
up here on the highway, but not as much.
The road is littered with abandoned cars that are rusted down to the
core. Dust covers all of them like a
blanket. I weave in and out of them
quickly, expertly jumping over debris and navigating parts of the bridge which
have fallen down. I walk for another
half an hour or so, trying not to think about the dangers that lie ahead, but
also not being able to stop thinking about it.
In the ten years I lived in Lawson, I heard stories about the dead zone. I heard stories of monsters that lurked in
the sewers and came out at night for food.
I heard rumours of savages who lived inside, of people who ripped each
other to shreds with their bare hands.
Of course, I dismissed all of them, but now, it seems pretty hard to do
that. There’s something about this
place. It’s quiet, like everywhere in
the world, but for some reason, it seems like it shouldn’t be quiet. I tell myself it’s just nerves and carry on.<br />
<br />
About an hour later I spot a truck down the road. More of a large van than truck. It sits sideways in the road, two other cars
jammed into its side, denting the metal.
I decide that it might be a good idea to take a look on the top of it,
see where I am. At the moment I can only
see a few meters in front of me. There’s
an ash storm raging. I climb up onto the
bonnet and place my hands on the roof of the cabin, lifting myself up right
onto the roof. I thought that maybe from
up here I could see further, But it’s not much different. The ash flies much quicker from up here
though. I pull the cloth wrapped around
my neck further up my face so that I don’t inhale any. The soft, dust like particles blow into my
eyes though. I don’t have any
sunglasses, so I have to wipe my stinging eyes every few seconds. I stand up there for a few minutes, trying to
see what’s up ahead, how long I have to go.
I want to find shelter by night.
Then, in the background, I begin to hear something. Like a mechanical purring. Then in gets louder, beginning to form a roaring
sound. Then, I hear crashing and
metallic scraping. Panic begins to rise
inside me. I grab the strap of my
hunting rifle and pull it so the gun swings from my bag, resting on my chunky
pack, to my front, where I grab it and hold it tightly. My mind goes through all the different myths
I heard. Maybe it was one of the
automated metal flying machines that I heard about at the marketplace a year or
so ago. I suddenly catch myself thinking
about all the stories and almost pass out from the fear. It’s getting closer. I see lights appear on the road. I have to move. I run across the top of the truck and fall to
my butt as I near the edge, sliding right off the edge. I’m about to roll as I fall to the ground but
my muscles won’t work with me, and I land flat on my face. I know I don’t have any time to inspect how
hurt I got from the fall. I’m on the
very left side of the highway, a few meters away from the barrier that separates
me from the wasteland. For a second I
think about jumping over, but instead I pull myself behind a car. I try to stay strong as I hide in cover,
trying to fight the “Why did I do this” thoughts.<br />
At first, I don’t dare to look up,
thinking that whatever this hulking thing is, is going to see me and I’ll be
dead before I can run. But I have to
know what it is. Riddled with fear, I
raise my shaky head and look through the glass-less windows of the car out to
the road. And there, pushing a car in
front of it, it comes into view.<br />
<br />
It’s a truck. Not like the one I was
just standing on. A hulking, giant
truck. It’s about 20 meters long, the
metal it’s made of rusted. Flags with
symbols scrawled across them in red paint hang from the side windows. The carriage the truck is pulling behind it
is painted in some places with black and red paint. Attached to the front is an ash plough that
goes all the way up to the windows of the cabin. Stuck on the front of it is a wreck of a car,
making a horrible scraping noise as it gets pushed along the highway with the
slow moving truck. Then I spot something
I can’t believe I didn’t see in the first place. There are people sitting on the top of the
truck, legs dangling over the edge.
They’re all armed with rifles, machine guns, pistols and machetes. They start shouting to what I think is each
other, until I see there are more of them on the ground. Just feet away from me. Patrolling the highway. I suddenly feel unsafe in my hiding space,
but don’t dare to move. I keep watching
to see what’s going to happen as they get nearer to the van blocking the
way. The truck keeps plodding along the
highway at about five miles an hour, smashing anything in its path until it
gets close to the truck. Then there’s a
sinister hissing followed by a gut-wrenching screech and the truck rolls to a
stop. The engine randomly cuts out and
the men begin to climb down, shouting as they do. I listen carefully to what they’re saying.<br />
“I don’t care how, just find a way through!” The man driving the truck shouts
to his friends. I see there are five
from the truck and four more on the road.<br />
“We could use the explosives, but that could mess up the whole bridge.”<br />
“Boss, can’t you just push it out of the way.”
Calls out a voice dangerously close.
I realize he’s right on the other side of the car I’m behind. I reflexively duck down, but still listen to
what they’re saying. <br />
“I don’t think that’s gonna work, bro.
There’s a whole pile up on the other side of this truck.” One more,
distant voice replies. My heart sinks in
dread when I hear they’ll be stuck next to me.
I have no idea how to evade them without them seeing me. I think for a second that I could always just
reveal myself from hiding and hope they won’t attack me, but my hopes of doing
that are dashed when the man in the cabin shouts, “If you find anyone, you know
the drill. Leave ‘em, or shoot ‘em!”<br />
I try to fight the idea that this is it.
That my journey’s over before it’s even started. I just sit behind the car. Listening to see what’s going to happen
next. In my head, I’m trying to plan what
I’m going to do, thinking so hard, going over all the scenarios. I’m thinking so hard that I hardly notice
when one of the men comes over to where I’m hiding. I see him just in time. He’s just about to
round the corner of the car and see me, but I react quickly. I fall to the floor and roll under the car,
ripping my long overcoat on shards of glass on the tarmac as I do. I silently watch the man’s feet as he walks
past the car from under it, fear constricting my muscles and my breath. I wait a good minute or so before I even dare
to breathe again. My hands are pressed
up against the bottom of the car.
There’s so little space under here my nose touches it. I compose myself and come up with a
plan. I’m going to get back out and find
out just how many of them there are.
With any luck, they’re moving the truck and they’ll be out of the
way. I begin to shimmy out from under
the car, making sure I don’t even make the slightest noise. I reach the edge and peek my head out,
praying the men are gone. It’s clear
down the side of the road. I roll out
and pull my pack with me. Now I’m
sitting on the side of the road, head down and rifle clutched in my hands.<br />
I can hear sounds coming from behind me, and I see that all the men except the
driver of the truck are behind the van, trying to move the piled-up cars next
to it. I begin to survey the road ahead
of me, noticing the ash storm has died down a bit. This allows me to see a site which puts a
shred of hope back inside me. About 100
meters ahead, I spot the outlines of buildings which hulk over the highway, all
lined up against a road cutting through the one I’m on. It’s the outskirts of the city. I’m trying to remember the map I bought from
the market in Lawson, fearing that if I try and retrieve it from my pack, I’ll
make noise and be seen. I know that a
few miles from here, the actual city starts.
I summon courage from the sight.
I know that I can make it out alive.
If I make a run for it down the highway and find a way down, I might be
able to outrun these guys. I take a
minute to plan my route through the cars, knowing I just have to get out of the
driver man’s range of hearing and I’m clear.
Then, I take a deep breath, spring into a crouch, and swing my rifle
onto my back. I stay in that position
for a few seconds, thinking I’m going to go but not actually moving my
muscles. Then, at a complete random
time, I put my hands in front of me and forward roll from the car, landing
behind the next one. I check that driver
hasn’t seen me, my body pumping with adrenaline, and break into a silent run,
going up the highway. I vault over the
bonnet of the next car and spin away from the one after that, that’s parked
sideways on the road. I reach a point on
the road where the bridge it’s supported by has split into two. It looks like the part I’m on disconnected
from the next part, as the road is a meter or so higher than it is on
mine. To get up, I have to scale a
concrete ledge that was once attached to my road. I don’t even plan my jump. I spin left, swiftly pull myself up onto a
car bonnet that’s pressed up against the jump and leap across, swiftly rolling
on the hard ground and landing in a crouch.
I scarper over to another car to get cover and then stay there for a few
seconds. Now that I stop I can’t believe
what’s happening. There are men a few
seconds away from me who want to kill me.
I’ve never been so vulnerable in my life. At this second I begin to question what I’m
doing. Why did I ever want to leave
Lawson in the first place? I remember hating it there, but now, Thoughts of
that huge town just bring feelings of regret.
Regret that I ever left.<br />
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost scream when I hear someone call out to
me. A shiver leaps from my feet and
jumps through me. I pull myself together
and nervously look around the edge of the car.<br />
I can’t believe my eyes when I see more.<br />
More men.<br />
<br />
They look like they’re from the same group of people before. They’re talking to the driver, who’s coming
towards them. I don’t bother to listen
to their words. I’m panicking so bad I
can’t even come up with a plan. There
are even more than before. There closest
one is a mere ten meters away from me.
In about ten seconds he’s coming to run right into me. My head frantically spins around, looking for
a way out. A pile up of cars 5 meters
away. A gap in the barricade a ways down the line. I’ll never make it there. I have to keep looking. Nothing; no way out. Wait… there’s a power line running along
beside the highway. The poles just about
reach above the road. Except a little
bit down the line, the electric wire must have snapped. It’s dangling down like a rope, and It leads
straight onto the road below. I check to
see where the other men are. I only have
a few seconds. My mind assesses what
will happen, but at some point, my body takes over again. I don’t even think about stealth. Half crouching, I stumble across the road. I’m too scared to look behind me, I just
go. And then, just as I think I’m clear,
it all goes wrong. Pain shoots through
my ankle and I go tumbling to the floor, my head smashing into a car door as I
descend. The pain in my head is
indescribable, and my eyesight can’t line up.
There’s two duplicates of everything, and there’s no way to know which
one is real.<br />
<i>I’m screwed now.</i> I think to myself. Tears well up in my eyes. It was too quick. I thought I could at least make it into the
city first-<br />
“Hey, there’s someone here!” A slurred voice announces. Three looming figures appear in front of me,
one of them real. He has a gun in his
hands. And when I see that, I conjure up
some sort of defiance inside of me. I
have to try and do something.<br />
I think of the rifle and shiver. But I
know I have to. I have to do it. My trembling hands go behind my back. My eyesight’s regaining now. I see three people standing over me. Two have their rifles aimed at me. The others have their weapons holstered. I can’t believe they haven’t shot me yet-<br />
I clasp the rifle on my back. I can’t believe what I’m doing. I don’t know how I’m going to escape even if
I do use it. One shot loaded. Four men in front of me. But my hands still pull begin to pull the
rifle in front of me. I do it slowly, so
they don’t see what I’m doing, but then, as I reveal what’s on my back, it
happens so fast.<br />
One shouts in alarm. I’m already pulling
the bolt back. The men holding their
rifle bring their fingers to their trigger, but they don’t shoot. It’s like they can’t. I’m simultaneously standing and aiming the
gun. At my hip, I line it up with the
rifle man on the left. Bring my finger
down to the trigger, hold it there for a second as the gun shakes violently in
my hand, and then-<br />
BANG. <br />
What have I done? Utter horror consumes
me as the man looks down to his stomach, where blood is spraying everywhere,
and collapse to the ground. His eyes so
empty. The others begin to kick into
action, and before I know it, I scramble over the bonnet of the car and sprint
to the wire. Behind me, A hundred tiny
explosions erupt. Bullets smash into
rusted metal around me. <br />
<i>What the hell have I done what have I
done what have I done-<br />
</i>I blindly dodge the tiny metal cylinders that come screaming towards me and
just run as fast as I can. I don’t know
how I’m ever going to outrun those men.
There’s an entire army of them. I
reach the end of the highway and jump up onto the thick barrier. I don’t even have time to plan my jump. I close my eyes, crouch, and propel myself
off the side. But as I jump panic causes
me to seize up. My feet slip. I falter.
And then I fall. It’s a jump that
barely lasts a second, and I don’t know how it even occurs to me in that second
to stick my hands out in front of me. I
feel something. The line. I force my hands to tighten and my whole body
goes from falling head first to clinging to the wire. I involuntarily zip down it and land at an
extremely high speed onto the ash.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">The short stories will be going on the website wattpad, where people can </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">upload</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> their writing and others can see it. I hope you enjoyed these first few pages. I'll bring you updates on how i'm doing with the story and tell you when It comes onto wattpad.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">For now, Stay frosty.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">-Joe</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">(Good news, I have a sign off phrase!)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-229669118983508299.post-68138519155812865832012-11-23T05:43:00.000-08:002012-11-23T05:48:46.518-08:00ATS and stuffHaving a blog is sort of like an autobiography. I recently read Michael Mclyntyre's autobiography, and then afterwards found myself thinking about writing things that happen to me in a future autobiography as they happened. After about a week of this, I was confident that sometime in the future, I could write one, but then I realized that all these thoughts that I would fill the book with are completely random, unconnected things about probiotic yoghurt and architecture. (The two most random things I thought of while I was doing this post) I had no way of linking all these things together, so i guess the blog is easier.<br />
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Welcome! (Again)<br />
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There's gonna be one of those (^) At the start of every post. Just a random thought.<br />
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Now, If I may drill down to the bedrock of this post.</div>
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I'd like to thank everyone, firstly and... foremostly... That has viewed my blog and shared it on facebook. In a night I've had 93 pageviews. Keep sharing! <br />
Also, I said I was going to post some of my writing on here, and I intend to keep my promise. At 150 pageviews, I'll put something On here!<br />
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Anyway, down to a serious matter. (If this was a TV broadcast the lights would dim and it would go to a close up of my face right about now) I wanted to share with some of you information about my condition, Arterial tortuosity syndrome, or ATS, if you like abbreviations. It's a very rare condition and I would like to clarify what it is, how it works and the other conditions attached to it.</div>
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Arterial tortuosity syndrome</b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> is a rare congenital </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Connective_tissue_condition" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Connective tissue condition">connective tissue condition</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> disorder characterized by elongation and generalized </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tortuosity" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Tortuosity">tortuosity</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> of the major </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Artery" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Artery">arteries</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> including the </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aorta" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Aorta">aorta</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">. It is associated with hyperextensible </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Skin">skin</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> and hypermobility of</span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joint" style="background-color: white; background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: initial;" title="Joint">joints</a><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">-</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Jokes, I'm not gonna make you read a wikipedia entry. Like it says above, arterial tortuosity syndrome is a VERY rare heart condition. There are about 50 people in the world with it. It basically means the arteries are tortuous, or kinked. This doesn't cause many problems (lie), at least for me it doesn't. In America, there are quite a lot of other children with ATS. Most of them have an extreme case of ATS, or, I suppose, you could say I have a mild one. Most of them have all had operations on their hearts to make their arteries wide enough to pump blood. I could further show the tragedy of this situation by stating almost all of these people who have had operations are below 10 years of age.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Now you're probably thinking mine must be nothing compared to all this, but it's still very bad. This is very complicated to explain, but another condition usually attached to ATS is hypermobility, or "Double jointedness." And another condition attached to THAT is chronic fatigue. Now, if you have ATS, you might not have hypermobility, and If you have hypermobility, you might not have chronic fatigue. Not for me. I wound up with all three. I want to explain all of these individually, so I'll split this into three groups and tell you about each one.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Arterial tortuosity syndrome (ATS)<br />One of the worst things, personally, with ATS, is the fact that my body needs all the energy it can to help deal with it, so I end up with a low immune system. Bottom Line: I catch a virus like a hardcore football fan catches a ball accidentally shot into the stands by a player on the pitch. This leaves me sitting at home a lot. Another thing about ATS is because of my arteries, it's too dangerous to play any contact sports, but that's not too much of a drag. I guess when you grow up without sports you don't really care when you can't play them. Although the majority of my friends are lovers of sports. That complicates stuff.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Finally, ATS causes flabby skin and droopy facial features. Now, some of you may be familiar with the common teenager's need to mock anything that looks different to them. I've been left severely angry (Refraining from using stronger... vocabulary here) when people mock me. Let me elaborate here. People have said I had "Bingo wings," or mockingly asked me, "What's wrong with my eyes." Of course, when they do, I turn round and explain to them angrily that it's the result of a serious condition and that only a sick person would judge someone like that, leaving them to walk away feeling extremely guilty. Then I realize I only did that in my mind.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Hypermobility syndrome (double jointed)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Not as amazingly rare as ATS, in fact, it's extremely common. This makes my joints, In layman's terms, all "Wibbly Wobbly." My joints are prone to "clicking out" a bit as a result. I can't write much because when I do my thumb painlessly dislocates (Picture that without cringing. I dare you.) Which means I use a computer quite a bit to write at school. This also means I can't walk very far either. My joints won't take it. Of course, this is one of the worst symptoms of all these conditions. When i'm out on trips with my friends it's always a concern i'll get tired of walking. The same thing happens on school trips, and a teaching assistant is always allocated to stay behind with me in case I lag behind the group, and believe me, i do. I sometimes even have trouble keeping up with a group of friends walking to and from lessons at school. The good thing is in 2010, I went on a two week intensive physio course. Basically, I did leg exercises at great ormond street. It was a really life changing fortnight. I really strengthened my legs, met a lot of great people who also had hypermobility, and most of all, got an extended summer holiday. Win!</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Chronic fatigue syndrome</span><br /><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">The worst of the bunch. This is tiredness. The severity of this conditions ranges from getting tired after a long day walking non-stop, to not being able to get out of bed in the morning. Chronic fatigue is terrible. At a lot of times, I can't manage a a full day of school. I have to limit playing out with friends on the weekend to an hour, tops, or I won't be able to get out of bed the next day. If I go to a shopping center for a day I'll be so tired when I get home I won't be able to think straight. I cannot stress how bad chronic fatigue is. Last year, my attendance at school was 40%. I know, right?</span><br /><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">I always have trouble convincing people I'm not just lazy. usually when people ask about it, I just give them a half-baked answer and decide to tell them later. Sorry about that.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">After I get viruses, I tend to get very tired. Recently, for example, I got ill for a week, but it's taken me more than two weeks to get back into school for two hours. usually, I get Wednesdays, the middle of the week off, to rest and ensure I can go in for the rest of the week. On the first two days of the week, I go in at ten. and after all of this, it's still a rare occasion that i'll make it in for the four days I'm supposed to go in.<br /><br /><br />So that completes the complicated trilogy of conditions. bad, huh? I have to admit, though, although I really don't like all this, If someone offered me the chance to just be normal, with no complications or conditions, I wouldn't accept that offer. It's made me who I am, and I know without them, I'd be a completely different person.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCSXZX_eIFcS7LEiN9DJq0hpEFmLoM1q66veLleeI8ne-7BvgmPp1Xi68ZR1e1v4BML27WXfyDkF50Oi595ZOIQh2l5aP4rUKDW7UauFfMwKV1k8x6haoZGgh4c75mpmbzDtJ7T8xq1f1/s1600/KItttennss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCSXZX_eIFcS7LEiN9DJq0hpEFmLoM1q66veLleeI8ne-7BvgmPp1Xi68ZR1e1v4BML27WXfyDkF50Oi595ZOIQh2l5aP4rUKDW7UauFfMwKV1k8x6haoZGgh4c75mpmbzDtJ7T8xq1f1/s1600/KItttennss.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">T</span></span><span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">hat was dramatic. Let's lighten the mood with... KITTENS!<br /><br />Aw, the little thing can fit in the glass!<br /><br /><br />Anyway, Thanks for reading. May the forks be with you. Isn't that the line?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">-Joe</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15878878728061157347noreply@blogger.com1