Words by Grace E Hall

Jingle looked back at Gary and Beach, who were still peering anxiously round the door. "It's safe, I think.  Come on and have a look.' Accordingly the two came near and looked at the rock where Jingle pointed.  It looked about normal (not turned bright blue or glowing as Gary had rather hoped.)  Beach noticed something, however. "It's at a funny angle, isn't it?"  "That's what I thought," Jingle nodded.  The rock which had been flat was now tilted up at a forty five degree angle (abouts) sloping down into the ground.  The pan and bottle were perched precariously, ready to slide down.  Beach grabbed them and thrust the bottle hastily into Jingle's arms, as though she was still uncertain of its nontoxicity.  Jingle stared at it. "Oh. . .well, that's too bad.  It's spilt itself." The bottle was indeed quite empty.  Beach and Gary offered sympathetic looks. "It could be worse-- at least we have the bottle." said G...

Midday slowly wore into evening. The sun glowed orange and yellow on the horizon, making the dirty white siding on the tiny house gleam brightly amid a tangle of overgrown lilacs. The smell of hot grass blew in from the field beyond the four wild Bradford pear trees, the branches hanging in unkempt clumps over the house. The corners of the reddish roof were filled with brown leaves. The crunching of tires on gravel broke the stillness as a very old silver car came up the driveway and stopped, looking as wild and disheveled and slightly forgotten as the house itself. The driver opened the reluctant car door and unfolded herself from the front seat, then stepped slowly onto the sagging front porch. Sticking a key in the lock of the door, she attempted to turn it, but nothing happened; absently she tried the next key, which worked. The door opened with a loud creak and this curious personage walked in, forgetting to shut the door all the way. Inside was cramped and crowded with book...

Jingle shut the door tightly and leaned against it, facing Gary and Beach. “What was that?” “It was that bottle!” Said Beach in a hushed voice. “It. . . Exploded! That's really scary.” Gary tried to act normal but his face was paler than usual. Jingle thought for a moment. “It must've had something to do with the pressure inside the bottle. Completely harmless. I think ma said something about it once.” No matter how harmless the bottle supposedly was, the decision was made to stay inside for now anyway.   The inside of the house was even hotter and stuffier than the outside. The furniture consisted of two chairs, a greasy stove, and three cabinets filled with assorted plates, bottles, and jars. One of the bottles was overturned and dripping a sticky liquid down the side of the cabinet. The stove was still curling smoke, and the smell of burned corn-cakes, wax candles, and an air of lonesome disarray predominated. Beach picked up a rag and scrubbed at the drip, picking ...

Greetings everyone, this is Grace, not another random character.  I'm sorry that this is such a short post, but I had an idea.    This is a prime opportunity to tell you that I appreciate you very much. To celebrate having five followers (it says I have six but that is because I followed myself. That doesn't count.)  I have written you a poem.  Please enjoy. How nice that I should live to say "I have five followers to-day!"  Not two, not four, not one, not three A whole five followers they be. Thank you all so very much Reading my writing posts and such It means quite a lot. Inconsequential it is not. **Side Note: I am not a poet; (as you may be able to tell) so please do not expect me to compose poetical pieces such as featured above frequently.  If you do wish to see more you can leave a comment.** THANK YOU!!!

The Island of Crystal Lakes was the third island in the Sea, surrounded on all sides by water of the bluest sort.  Soft waves curled up onto the shore and left in a dancing little splash of bubbles, disappearing into the next wave, happily pushing its way onto the glittering white sands.  Glassy clear pools lay like mirrors amid tumbled grey-green rocks.  The sun beamed down, making the rocks hot and the water sparkle. The forest was standing above the shoreline, dark and shadowy and still.  Deep blue green lakes sent greenish glimmers of reflected light on the trees.  Hidden lagoons green with algae, with sunrays slanting through the water, and vines trailing down into the water like spiderwebs, lay under the shadows of this great woods.  It was a quieter and darker place than the beach as though the forest was in awe of itself.  A solemn and wondering silence. Up out of the forest rose the Castle of Crystal View, a tall and slender thing, not overly ...