Moving house.

So I'll be away from the blog for a while.
Big decision. All happened very fast.
Excited though!
Well, I'll be back with you as soon as I can!
Sorry!

Art projects and Fires in Winter.

Happy weekend!

I haven't posted much art at all. For a long while. So here is my project :)

 ^That is what my project looked like a few weeks ago...

^And that is what it looks like now. I'm pretty happy with it :)

More for my 'promise' now, a little bit of Fires in Winter.

I woke up screaming. Either my dream was real or fake. I felt a sense of pure, concentrated fear melt through my body. I thought it must be true. Must be. Margo left with some other alliance members. The day before, news came through that she was missing, and then I had the dream.

“Ellen? What’s up? Bad dream?” Bonnie Smith turned over in the bunk below me to get a clearer view of my face and smiled enthusiastically. “Don’t worry. Smile. It was only a dream, okay?” I nodded, but turned away to stare at the ceiling.

It wasn’t a dream. It can’t have been. Margo’s dead.

Margo is dead.

The one woman I thought of as a Mum, or maybe a Gran, was dead. She’d been shot by who looked like a ten year old girl, but couldn’t be, because she said they had worked together, and Margo was fifty-something.

So many questions were flying through my head. Nothing made sense.

But it was a dream. It can’t have been real.

But it was.

I was at war with myself. I turned back onto my front and eventually fell back to sleep, a deep, dreamless, peaceful sleep. No murders.

This is my first draft. I don't usually look back on my writing until I've finished. I know that sounds weird and a bit stupid, but I have to wait at least a week so I have a fresh head before I look back on it, or I just glance over silly mistakes.

*Also, the 'man' in the bottom left of my project is actually my friend with her hair up. It was a bit of a fail ;)

Might review a book tomorrow :)

It's f-f-f-friday!

It's Friday! Yay! Not that I hate school - I love school! - But Fridays are always good :) Here's some more of my old novel, continuing from yesterday.

“How many children are there?” I asked, for I had noticed the plural.

“Ten.”

“Ten?” My voice was a little strained. How could a fourteen year old girl cope with ten children? It seemed impossible at the time.

“Yes. There’s John, he’s your age, he should be able to cope. Then there’s Mary and Laura, who are both ten. And there’s Laurie, Eleanor and Hattie, all nine. Grace and Ben, eight. Small at five and tiny Tara at two.” I was gaping at this time, and closed my mouth as soon as I remembered how to.

“Sorry, Small?” The name confused me.

“Yes. He does not know his name. Or his parents. We took him in. He goes by the name Small, and likes it well enough. You’re observant.” I blushed. “Come with me. One of the servants will look after this man and help fix his carriage.” She added, noticing me glance at the other man who had followed her up the hill, confused. I followed her, willing to see my new home.

I gasped as soon as we entered the hall. It was the first room after the huge, flowered garden and tremendous double doors stood at the entrance. Two servants, or workers of some sort, opened them. This hall I found myself stood in was huge, with a polished floor, paintings on the whitewashed walls and carpeted stairs that led up to a walkway which several children were stood on. I counted. Then again. Smiling to myself. There were definitely ten of them. I stood nervously, then noticed the plaque on the wall next to me, which read;

Farthingale Manor, an awarded home for the mental.

New plan. Ditch the 'Unseen' novel, or keep hold of it and leave it till later, and work on this one and Fires in Winter for now. Hows your Friday coming along? Been eating a banana, I seem to have an overwhelming addiction to them at the moment.

By the way, do any of you writers know of any blogfests coming up that I could join in with? Damn, I need to post some of my art, haven't in ages. Might do that later...