My writing collection

Level 9
Aug 23, 2007
I made this post to hold all of my current and future writing pieces so I don't have to make new posts. I'll also have a link to the writing lessons.

This story is currently on hold for me. I've finished the first chapter but have to find where I placed it.

We walked up the stained limestone steps towards the aged church looming overhead. At my side was Krusible, my long time friend, and partner in this business. Also with us was Oaril, a stalky old man with very tired and worn features. His eyes darted about wildly, watching, waiting for something, anything to happen. As the caretaker of the church, he came along to guide us to the forbidden door or so it's referred. In the basement of the church there is supposedly a stone door that hasn't been opened for centuries, yet the local villagers believe that recent disappearances and strange mutilations on people from the village are being caused by something in the church.

An old women from the village reported seeing a large, black beast looming in the shadows of the forest. She said she watched it curiously for some time until it bolted at a very alarming speed towards the church where it disappeared from sight. Later on a body was discovered in the area where the old women saw the figure.

Oaril says that he has never heard or seen anything unusual in the church, but the way he nervously approaches the tall splintery door of the church leaves me a skeptic of his words.

"So Oaril, what exactly did you say that door in the basement of the church leads to?" Krusible asks. Oaril slightly jumps when my friend's words break the still silence. Oaril responded in a quick and raspy voice,

"Well, no one can be for certain, but it is thought to lead under the entire village. There's said to be tunnels at stretch under the town and possibly trap doors that come into the village at different locations." Oaril looks at me and Krusible, as if searching for an approving nod or smile to show that we believe him; he doesn't get this response. Oaril opens the door to the church, which creaks, echoing off thick the walls of the church.

As we step inside I reach for the torch mounted just outside the door. The inside of the church is very dark and gloomy. Shadows fill every corner, giving me the sensation of being watched. As Krusible and I walk into the church, I hear Oaril muttering something behind us. I turn to try and see what he's up to when the door begins to creak again. In the most foulest of sounds, Oaril cries, "Now, you will either kill the beast which hunts for the flesh of ye humans, or be devoured by that which you are prey!" At that the door is slammed shut and latched from the outside. Krusible chuckles,

"Who does he think he is, some kind of Acolyte to Satan? If this is a demon we're dealing with here, then it would just as quickly kill him as us." I turn to Krusible who reaches for his sheathed blade.

"Well old friend, if this is a demon we're dealing with here, then let us pray that it is one of the lower ranking demons and not that of the Sentinels or the Decadence. Even if it is a lesser demon, we still need to be on our toes, we know many a men who have fallen to weak demons when they were caught off guard. But enough of this chatter, we must hurry and find this demon, before it finds us." I said in a very stiff voice. Fully serious at this point.

Stretching ahead of us are the four rows of old oak benches. This church was so seldom used that the benches were covered in cobwebs and the wood was turning a dull grey. In the front of the building was a large stone statue, the statue of Jesus. There was something peculiar about it though. The shadows seemed to be very thick about that particular area of the building.

"Hey Krusible, I'm going to take a look in the front of the building by the stairs. Why don't you head over to the tower? Head up to the bell stand, and check around. Return when you are finished."

Krusible nods and turns towards the tower opening. I turn in the opposite direction towards the statue. I walk slowly, making no sound, and keeping my senses open. If I'm attacked, I must be ready to defend myself from any angle, and also be ready to attack in an instant. I grip the handle of my sword tight, ready to swing at any time.

Now, halfway across the church, I can slowly start to pick out the features of the statue. The robes, the crucifix behind him, yet, something seems to be missing, a key part to the statue. Then I notice it. The head of the statue has been replaced with the head of a man, the pale skin of the rotting head slightly blending with the grey stone of the statue. As I walk closer to get a better view, I start to notice something below the head, a writing of sorts.

As I grow closer to the grotesque statue I begin to realize what I'm really looking at. On the chest of the statue, in blood, are the words, "Dies of Nex," or, "Day of Death," in English. Below these words is the picture of a pentagram, also drawn in blood. Yet on the pentagram three of the five point are filled in with red, the other two are still just outlined.

"Hey Krusible," I shout, "I think you should come down here and take a look at this." At first I get no response, and then I feel something knock against my back. I turn thinking Krusible's playing tricks with me when I realize, with a sudden fear, that my friend isn't standing before me. I look around to see what hit me, and to my fear I see a bloody hand lying at my feet. Behind me I hear a sound. The sound is what you would only expect to hear in the fiery depths of hell itself. The cry pieces my ears and cuts its way though my entire soul. I turn to see a dull red light coming from the basement of the church. The dimly lit red light was slowly pulsating. Yet again a screech erupted out, this time from behind, in the tower. The very tower I had just sent my friend into.

A low chuckle reverberates from the basement, seemingly shaking the whole church in its core. The silence that follows is almost as eerie as the sounds made by the unknown creatures around me. The clapping of footsteps up the stairs toward me breaks the silence. I lift my sword, ready to attack whatever pitiful creature shows itself. Yet to my surprise, a demon is not what reveals itself, but a man.

He is clad in a long red and black robe made from the finest of threads. He is an older looking man with very short slicked grey hair. He looks at me and smiles. The smile seems to completely immobilize my body. He begins chuckling again.

"Aww, so you are the great Demon Hunter of Europe. Your name is Haez if I am correct. It seems that you're in a tight spot now though. Your weak magic and pitiful steel sword won't help you here." The man's voice is loud and commanding yet somehow calming and unthreatening.

I manage to find the air to speak. "W-Who are you?" I ask weakly, still unable to move and finding it hard to breath.

"Who am I? I am a lord, well a demon lord to be precise." He smiles as my eyes go wide with fear. "I am the leader of the…weaker, demons but I rule them nonetheless. My name is Raum, and I command over the Anemics. Yet, you have nothing to fear as of yet because I come here with a proposition for you. I'm here to ask you for a favor."

My eyes go wide once again this time in disbelief. "A favor, you think I would ever help one of you piece of shit monsters?" I shout, the paralysis wearing off a bit.

"No I don't expect you to except, but you really only have two choices. One you say yes and help me or two you get ripped to shreds by the dozens of demons I have waiting to enter through the open portal down stairs." His voice is calm and has no hint of anger.

"Well what is it you want my help with? Surely a demon lord should be able to deal with his own problems." I say mockingly towards Raum.

"It's not that I really need the help, it's more that I would like you to join me in something. You see, it is difficult for me to open a portal from our realm to yours without there being curtain pieces, if you will, in place. What I would like you to do is lead over a group of my followers and open portals for the demons at different times and places. To essentially be searching for the perfect place to open the Great portal allowing all the demon lords to cross to your realm."

I look at him in disbelief. "You're asking me to help destroy the world I've been fighting to protect for years? There is no way I could turn on humanity like that. Even in the face of death I would never work with or for you." I growl, trying to prove that I decline.

Raum shakes his head and looks towards the ground. "I very sorry to hear this, but of course I expected it. That is why I had another person in mind if you said no." He grins and looks at something behind me.

Suddenly a sharp, piecing pain erupts in my back. I look down to see the end of a blade protruding out of my stomach. Slowly the blade slides back into me ever so fluently as if it was cutting grass. I look up as someone passes by me. My heart skips a beat as I see the face lit by the light.

"Kr-Krusible?" I mumble in a very raspy voice. "W-What have y-you done?" My old friend looks at me, showing no emotion, his face as still as stone.

"You see Haez, Krusible was much easier to coax into working for me. In fact he has been a follower of me for some time now." I look at Krusible then to Raum.

"You're lying…There is no way Krusible would be a follower of you, it's a trick," I say though the blood coming up in my throat.

"No trickery here Haez, he is your friend through in through. Yet, time is running short and I must return to my realm. Well Haez, since you are no longer able to become a part of my Legion of Darkness, I have no use for you." Raum looks at me and with the most pleasant smile he can muster he whispers, "It's time, my kin are hungry and there is a fresh food source right here. So I bid you farewell."

As Raum and Krusible descend down the stairs to the basement I can hear the cries and howls of demons coming into my world, coming to devour me. I fall to my knees, tears beginning to pool in my eyes, yet I still muster a smile. "Heh, well Oaril, you said kill or be killed. Looks like I got the bad end of the deal.

Addition to the above story.

I'm running, blood matting my thick hair, sweat rolling into my eyes, but I'm running none the less. Behind me I can hear the shouting of men chasing me. They hoot and holler as if taking the life of a fellow brother is a sport and this is the thrill of the hunt. I'm being chased for the special gift I hold within me. My heart contains the blood of the fallen hero, Zael. His blood was said to make a man immortal when consumed. My own brothers now hunt me for that very gift. I turn back to stare through the shadows at my pursuers. The flames of their torches danced on the Cobblestone walls of the dungeon halls. I'm suddenly stopped as I crash into the wall, my head bouncing off the hard stone. I collapse in a heap on the ground, a searing pain in my head. I roll myself over to stare down the hall once more at the men closing in. Their faces twisted in greed and malice towards my gift and me. I slowly begin to stand, still facing my brethren. I begin running in a dazed sprint towards them. They are surprised by this but continue on. I leap into the air at my enemies, letting lose a bloodcurdling cry. My whole body crashes into them sending them sprawling throughout the hall. I grab for a sword that had fallen from one of the warrior's grasps. I stand and drive the blade through the nearest man, his face turning from a look of confusion to a look of shear horror. The blade slices cleanly through his chest, making a cracking sound as it breaks ribs. I remove the blade and move to the next man who begins standing. I lift the blade and slam it down on the mans head, splitting clean into the skull. I let go of the handle and let the man fall limply to the ground. I turn to the last four men who stand grouped together, their weapons held ready. I stand straight, my head still throbbing from my meeting with the wall. I ready myself to attack when the men turn their gazes behind me. Their faces go from battle ready to utter fear. They drop their swords and run in the opposite direction. I begin to turn and see what it was that startled them when something pieces my flesh. I look at my chest to see a long black spear protruding from my torn shirt. The spear suddenly recedes into my body. I stand in shock as a figure walks around me. The shadows recede and reveal the face of a man.

"Raum," I mumble, barely able to speak through my wound.

Another man walks around me holding a long black spear. The man was Krusible. He stood smiling widely as I writhe in pain.

"Well, look at what we have here. One of my most loyal servants and followers, Gale. You have been humble to me till the end my friend, but now I shall take what it is you have. The blood of the fallen demon hero. My friend here needs a little help with being a mortal, with the blood he can follow me into the demon realm and watch over the cultists from a safe distance."

I look at both in disbelief. "You had me join the cultists just so you could use my gift when needed?" I sputter in confusion. Krusible begins laughing.

"Yes we kept you until needed, and now that I'm fully on the demons side, I need a way to venture into their realm, you are that key." I look from Krusible to Raum who are both smiling wickedly.

"Now, I believe I will allow you to die quickly for being such a service to us." Says Raum in a very fake sympathetic tone. Then Krusible bursts into laughter.

"No my lord. I would like him to live through every painful minute. I want to make him suffer." I look at Raum who to my fear nods approvingly.

Krusible lifts his spear into the air as Raum, speaking in demon tongue, performs a spell to keep me alive for a brief amount of time. No sooner does the spell end, that the pain begins. The spear is driven into my stomach and the twisted, tearing through my organs, ripping them apart. I cry out in pain, knowing that no amount of screaming would ever show the pain I was in. The spear is then removed and slammed into my right shoulder. He leaves the spear impaled into my arm this time and puts his right hand to the left side of my face. For an instant there is nothing then suddenly the side of my face bursts into flames. The fire licking my flesh, melting it off the bone. I attempt to scream once again but am unable to this time.

"Krusible I believe he has suffered enough. Leave him." Raum says quickly.

"As you command master," At that Krusible drives his hand through the spear wound in my chest. I feel his hand pushing against the inside of my chest then griping something. I look on in shock as he removes my heart from my chest cavity, still throbbing in his hand. I watch his hand tighten and then witness my life taken from me, and ready myself for the eternal darkness and freedom from this pain.

Two hero concepts I made. I never really pursued this concept thing but may in the future.

Kean Maelwood: A valiant and noble hero of Southern Alzeria. He grew up in a small hunter village and was trained in the ways of the hunter. He was taught to be patient, fearless, and noble. As a hunter he grew to love the wild. The forest was his home. He could deal with any animal that he came upon whether it was to be killed or tamed.

In the early years of his proclaimed manhood, he left the small village that he had grown up in, and ventured westward to the kingdom of Zalerath. There he hoped to find a purpose, other than living a simple life of hunting and working like the life his father had lived. He reached the kingdom and met a man who was very close to the king. He saw the potential in young Kean and asked him to do a simple task of taking out a crew of bandits pestering an outlying village. Kean not only defeated the bandits but defeated their leader and stopped their whole bandit organization in the local area.

From that time on the king would assign Kean many tasks to take care of. Kean soon became a well known name in the kingdom of Zalerath. His name and long list of achievements even reached as far as his old home village of Alzeria. Kean was anointed the kings personal court captain. This role gave him the ability to command the kingdom’s army.

Kean would go on for many years working for the king and doing the tasks that a normal warrior would have no hand in. He would disable criminal chains throughout the kingdom, he would find cruel warriors on the warpath, and he would even hunt fearsome beasts that would roam about the kingdom. Kean is now more laid back. He no longer goes on every odd job the king throws at him. Newer and more exiting heroes have come forth for the easier tasks, yet when an important matter comes about Kean is always asked first. From time to time he accepts and is once again plunged into the world of war and violence.


Warsong: Rallies surrounding soldiers causing them to fight with more anger and hate, increasing their damage. Gives all surrounding units chance to stun.

Hunter’s Intrigue: The hunter uses his well gained patience and thinks of his next move. Causes your hero to become invisible allowing you to asses the situation your in.

Weapon Mastery: Hunters become well adept with many weapon styles. With more knowledge you become a better fighter. Increases your attack damage by a certain amount while carrying a weapon.

Kill Shot: A Hunter learns to aim for the most lethal target on their prey. This increases your hero’s attack damage greatly while slightly reducing their attack speed.

La’Zalral: Calling this man a, “hero,” wouldn’t fit his fancy. He would have to be referred to as a demon. He started out with the intent to be a hero, but was soon drawn into the world of darkness and evil. As a boy La’Zalral grew up in the war ridden city of CalVill. He was brought up in violence and death. He learned to fight from a very young age. He had no friends and his family had been killed before he was old enough to even understand they were his parents.
Once grown, La’Zalral left the city, tired of the lifestyle. He thought he could leave and return someday to rid the city of its war and death. Little did he know his life was to change dramatically in the soon coming years. He began meeting strange characters. He met men and women that were followers of dark religions. He came across necromancers and demon worshippers. He became curious of the Demonologist’s studies and began looking into the worshipping and writings of these acolytes. He became obsessed with the work. He spent years worshipping and studying the demons.

He had aged twenty years since he first left the city he called home and he was already able to open portals into the demon realms. To lengthen his studies he opened a portal and, with a group of three warriors, entered the portal to study the demons. The warriors he brought with him were slaughtered fairly quickly but the demons spared him for they saw his potential to help them. He was brought to a demon master residing deep in the realm of demons. The Master told La’Zalral to train with the demons for five years and learn to fight as they fight, brutal, painful, and bloody.
To La’Zalral these five years flew by, for he was plunged into the world of the living much too quickly in his opinion. He decided to return to the city he had grown up in. He figured he was powerful enough, but he didn’t have the same intentions as he had when he was younger. Now he was returning there to kill the inhabitance and rule over it himself.

He arrived at the gates to find that the city had rebuilt itself and the crime and fighting had come to an end. The city was in the best condition he had ever seen it in, and it made him sick. He began opening a riff from his world to the demon realm. Almost instantly demons began flowing out of the opening and turned to great La’Zalral. He ordered them to attack the city and take residence in the city. His new idea was to summon the demons and have them live in the city under his rule. The demons quickly overcame the city and began finding places to thrive. La’Zalral introduced himself to the king who was cowering in his study when found. La’Zalral laughed at the pitiful man who had ruled the city for so many years. His life was taken from him slowly and painfully. First La’Zalral aloud his demons to torture him by removing limbs and slowly cutting him deeply, the final blow cam when La’Zalral took his blade and decapitated him. The final thing that La’Zalral did in the conquest of the city was taking the bloody crown from the bodiless head of the king and placing it upon his head.

Even to this day La’Zalral rules over this city where demons are free to enter our world at the will of their living world king, La’Zalral.


Demon Strength: Passive ability. Training with demons for five years gives you incredible strength and a fearless disposition. Increases strength and attack speed.

Torture: An attack that holds the target in place while doing slow damage. The target is poisoned and slowly hurt after the hold wears off.

Demon Realm Sending: This opens a portal on the ground below a group of targets and allows demons to grab them from below. The demons can hold the units in place and deal damage to them.

Summoning: This opens a portal that allows demons to filter into the world of the living, the stronger the portal the stronger the demons that can pass through. The portal stays open for a short amount of time and during this time demons can enter through the portal one by one.

Update New hero

Zorock: As a boy he always wondered why he looked different from the rest of his family. He was smaller, fair haired and had pale skin, while his breatheren were large, had rough knotty hair, and has coal red skin. Once he grew older his parents told him of when they found him, and how he was a human, while they were corrupt orcs. They were once greenskins but were corrupt when the Fel magic that ran threw their veins. As a human, he would have to leave his home before the other orcs began fighting against him because of his human heritage.
Finally he left his home to live with the humans, but was stopped by an elderly orc, one he had never meet. He turned out to be a Warlock of the old times. This Warlock trained the boy in the powers of the Fel orcs and their corrupt magic. For years they trained and the boy became the most powerful human Warlock to ever live. He rejoined the orc village he grew up in. When he arrived he began training the orcs in their native Fel magic. He turned the orcs into fighting machines, full of magic and power. He then began ravenging the lands with the orcs, leading them against the humans. As one of the few living human warlocks he was able to use magic beyond most wizards comprehension. He was one of the most adept users of magic in the entire region, until he was attack by the elders of the lands. They sealed him away in the realm of outland where his foul magic started. He's still trying to find a way back.


Shadow Claw: Similar to Thorns Aura. His power over Fel magic allows his to create shadows that float about him, clawing and cutting enemies near by.

Fel Horror: Living in outland gave him access to other forms of the Fel magic he knew so well. The magic had actually taken over living forms in the land and morphed and corrupted the forms. They became horribly disfigured and the magic even devoured the body creating a form of shadows. These monsters became very powerful and Zorock became able to summon these beasts.

Total Inferno: The ground surrounding Zorock bursts into flames. The flames lick and burn at enemies flesh but heal him and any other creature of Fel magic.

Fel Overheat: He uses all the Fel magic within him to increase his strength, Intelligence, Agility, and greatly increase his speed and attack damage. His health however is damaged for the duration of the spell.

The Hive story. Once again something I didn't really pursue but may in the future if someone requests.

The darkness parted revealing the faces of the many men sitting in the wide circle. They were all wise and kind. They're the members of the Hive union. Whenever a decision is passed in the land of Workshopland the Hive Union are the first to hear of the idea. They also have the final word in the decision itself.

These men gained this power through being the most powerful in the land. Power has many different ways to implement itself however. Some are great warriors while others are powerful in spirit and knowledge. They are the wisest of them all.

The room we now sat in had a large black marble floor. It was the flattest surface I'd ever laid foot on. The walls stretched high into the heavens forming a dome at the top. The walls were made out a marble as well but a white marble. The light was dimmed in the room to allow for easier thought. With less light there is less to view through your physical eye so you can focus on mental thoughts. The light was now being restored as our thought process was over. We are currently going over a rule that the citizens of Workshopland were wanting passed. The law was to permit the local men to hunt for the nearly extinct dragon race.

Dragons are becoming more and more of a problem with the rise of the dragon trainer Pyritie. He migrated from the southern mountain region of Workshopland. He was bringing all the local dragons he can round up and sending them to pillage the land and destroy local villages. The rule of weapon holding was put in place years ago. This only allowed the army and the Hive Union members to use a weapon in combat. This was to keep the land from plunging into war.

As the lights begin lighting the room once again the faces of my fellow Union members are revealed. To my right is my long time friend Hawkwing. He was a great warrior before the Hive Union was created. He fought in many battles and gained a reputation for being ruthless and very weapon savvy.

He gained the name Hawkwing from his old master. His master's name was Hawk and he considered a Hawks wing to be its most valuable asset. Hawk believed Hawkwing was the most powerful warrior he'd seen in a millennium, even more powerful than him. Hawkwing means that Hawk names him the warrior to continue on with his legacy of warriors with the spirit of a Hawk.

I look to my left and see one of the wisest men in the entire Hive Union. He was one of the first to join when it was created. His name is Wolverabid. He's a fairly tall man with long flowing black hair. He also has a short beard that covers his face.

Not much is entirely known of this man other than the fact that he has vast knowledge in many subjects, some even unknown by the Union members themselves. Wolverabid gained his name from the animals he lived among for many years. He lived in the forest for most of his life studying and researching subjects that interested him. He was said to have five pet wolves that would hunt and bring food to him to dine on. He was found by the humble leader of the Hive Union, Ralle.

We all stand from our hard stone seats and watch as Ralle enters the room. His outer appearance is very deceiving towards his inner being. His long blonde hair stretches to his shoulders. His eyes are a dark blue like the coldest ice. He looks like he's in his mid twenty's when in reality he's been living more hundreds of years.

He strides into the middle of the room, his long blue cloak flowing along his side. He stops in the middle of our circle and studies us for a moment.

"Well, have you come to a decision?" He asks. His voice is always loud and commanding, but always friendly. Wolverabid steps forward. Whenever we make these decisions, Wolv is always the one to answer. He holds the second highest rank in the Union, right below Ralle.

"Yes Ralle, we have come to a consensus. We believe we shall allow the people of our realm to fight the tyrant Pyritie. We can not be every where at once to defend the land meaning we must allow them to defend themselves without breaking the Hive Decrees." Ralle nods and closes his eyes for a moment, thinking no doubt.

"Then it is settled. Let our people take up arms." Ralle reopens his eyes and studies us all once again. "Elenai, please will you come with me. There are a few pieces of information I must share with you about the growing issue." Elenai, in his long white robe steps forward and follows Ralle out of the chamber to discuss god knows what. An issue in the land of the Hive is nothing to be surprised by, yet it seems lately that there has been more than normal. The world is falling into some kind of trouble, and we must try solving it before it destroys us all.

A very quick story I wrote for Christmas. Not my greatest writing but well there you are.

The night of Christmas Eve. This is a time to be with your families, have fun, and await the coming Christmas day. For one such family this dream was a reality for years among years. The Peterson family was an average family. The parents cooked a nice dinner every night and they all ate at the dinner table talking about the days events. On Christmas Eve the family cooked up a nice meal composing of a small ham and saving the turkey for Christmas night. Dinner had just been finished and the family was now all sitting in the living room watching, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” The father was laughing, the children were giggling, and the mother was smiling with glee. They're a happy family and spend lots of time together, but there was always something magical about Christmas night.
Finally the Christmas original was over and the children rushed for their beds, looking forward to sleep but knowing that it was far off. The father tucked in his son and left the room, the door cracked open. The boy, only ten, was exited you see but not only for the coming Christmas morning but for the plan he had set in place. The boy was still a believer in Santa and was planning on climbing to the roof to meet him on this night. He would climb the roof once his parents were in bed, sleeping and dreaming.
The boy watched the door slowly close, the light underneath diminished and darkness arose. The boy left his room, his plan in his mind. He tip toed down the stairs and rushed to the door, flinging it open allowing the cold air to rush him. He stepped outside onto the stone stairs leading to his home. He walked along the house, turning the corner and reaching the ladder he had set in place. He climbs the ladder ever so slowly as to not wake his parents. He reaches the top and climbs over the gutters onto the cold snow covered roof. The slope of the roof was ever so gradual and was easy to walk on without slipping. The boy walked over and sat by the chimney, the thin cold air not bothering him through the excitement.
He waited for what seemed like hours until he finally heard a sound on the far side of the roof. He jumped up and looked into the dark shadowy night hanging over the roof. He couldn't see anything for a few moments, then out of the dark a figure arose.

“Santa is that you!” the boy did exclaim. The figure replied,
“Why yes I am Santa. Here with presents for you good girls and boys!”
To the boy, the voice didn't sound like what he expected from Santa. The voice was high and broken like that of a smoker. The figure then coughed and stepped closer revealing a dirty Santa outfit.
“Now my good friend do you think you could help me into your home where I can deliver the presents?” The boy looks curiously.
“Why don't you just use the chimney Santa, thats how you do it right?” The man laughs, again nothing like Santa.
“I'm tired of chimneys. I'm using the front door now.” The boy looks at the man.
“Santa I'm not supposed to let people that I don't know in. Not that I don't know you but if you can use the chimney you should use it.” The man glares at the boy.
“I didn't want to have to do this but you leave me no choice,” the man says with and angry growl. From his pocket the man reveals a small object and points it at the boy. “Now show me to the door and show me in or I'll shoot you and your family and you don't want that do you?” The boys eyes go wide and tears begin to pool when out of the shadows does a loud bang arise. Then a thud and a swoosh and moments later another figure flies into the man with the fake Santa sweater.
The man cries in surprise, dropping his gun in the attack. The attacker throws fists into the face of the man with the gun, who cries and wheezes in pain. The fight finally stops and the attacker stands tall. He turns and smiles the widest of smiles the boy had ever seen, and he returns this as he realizes who the man is, “Your Santa your Santa!” the boy does exclaim. The man laughs and tosses the boy a small red box which he catches and smiles at Santa as he turns towards his slay which is glowing from lights hanging from it. The boy looks at the box and opens it fast revealing a small envelope with. The boy opens it and finds a letter, reading it fast he smiles and laughs at what it does ask. It warns about people like the fake Santa imitator that did attack, saying don't talk to strangers my good boy, or you'll end up like that man not receiving a single toy.

Poems, Odes.

Ode to the light for without, there would be only dark.

Ode to the protection it brings and the danger it ends.

Ode to the happiness the light can bring, and the fright the dark can carry.

Ode to which is illuminate, allow us to gaze upon.

Ode to the Brave for without, we would have nothing.

Ode to the protection they bring, and the fear they squelch.

Ode to their power and might, they fight for our freedom while we stand by.

Ode to their devotion for without, we would all be incomplete.

These are my first Odes I've ever written. I personally don't think I'm that great at poems but anyways, there you are, enjoy.

New poems I've written in class recently


Life can bring such suffering and pain
Many would ask if we are even sane
With all of the killing and all of the hate
Our sanity falls but is it to late
With the sinister cries
Our minds they will fly
Our world will soon collapse
With never ending relapse

They stand together
Arm to arm
Shield to shield
An unwavering wall
It shall never fall
Until their own beliefs age
And their hearts are week and worried
Will such and empire collapse
To the hand of another
Only their people will die away
As their spirits will live on
In the eyes of many
They are the source of all fear

That's it so far.

Here's also a link to the writing lessons I put together. Hopefully they can help you to if you haven't already taken a look at them.

Writing lessons

Happy reading and writing

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