Writing News~

Anyway....here is a post....
Introducing...
THE NANOWRIMO!!!
Tear that not particularly excited look off your face and replace it with a rapt, delighted smile.
Nanowrimo =
1 month
Thousands of Writers all over the world
50,000 words by the 30th of November

I'm proud to say that I've written approx 6000 so far.

Here's a snapshot of my (not very exciting) novella, H et P:
***
It was an unusually golden morning. The suns shone brightly and cheerfully, the sky was cloudless and the air was warm and comfortable.
It made even Gronwye, the most impenetrable forest on the Cube seem livelier and slightly more habitable.
A famous (and mad) poet named Tayber, had once yodelled to no one in particular, ‘No lighteth shine ineth the dark of Gronwye nighteth.’ (Most people assumed he had a strange lisp, but the truth was that Tayber operated under the illusion that he sounded wiser if he attached ‘eth’ to a few words in every sentence, regardless of which.)
The strange thing was that it looked like a normal forest. The birds were actually chirping instead of huddling warily in their nests. The rays of the morning sun had pierced through various layers of vines, tangled tree branches and the treacherous undergrowth, lighting it from floor up. The forest was very much alive. Flowers bloomed and wakening animals yawned in the warm light. The dew on the ground had not yet dried, and shone brilliantly like crystals. There was a golden glow lighting the green moss, making it look invitingly soft, like rich green velvet adorned with the glittering beads of water. Sprightly green leaves uncurled from trees. The brown sprigs of the shrubs looked a healthy wooden brown, dark like polished walnut, with occasional white speckles.
A few squirrels and other woodland creatures calmly gathered nuts and food, squeaking and greeting each other. The birds trilled delightfully in the trees and the foxes prowled slightly further in the shadows, brilliant red pelts concealed within the little darkness that the light had not reached.
‘HEY HOOOOOO!’
There was a sudden burst of music. Well, the kind of bad-quality, poor excuse for music that you found lurking in seedy little inns that edged the slums in Noveali City.
‘A HOG AND A DOOOOOOOG’ Said singer yodelled.
The explosion of sound shattered several eardrums in the surrounding area and caused a few fleas to fall dead out of pure shock. The birds were startled out of their perches and the animals scurried back to their holes urgently as the raucous noise flooded the forest.

“There once a hog, who married a dog,
Oh what a sod! He married a dog.
Hey ho, a hog and a dog!
And now that fine dog went off with a frog,
And poor old hog was left with his looooooooooooooooog!
Hey Ho, A dog and a frog!
Hey H-OWWW!!!”

The singer stopped singing abruptly and began hopping around madly, scattering the terrified woodland creatures in all directions.
“Bally stubbed my toe! Who would put a flippin’ rock right there! Bloomin’ cheek!”
After giving the rock a few sound kicks for good measure, she gave a few coughs and continued prancing through the forest.
“Ha-hemm!” She announced theatrically to her petrified audience who peeked their heads out of their little nooks and crannies warily. “Excuse that interruption! Bally STUPID Rock! I bet yar’all dying t’know who I bloomin’ am! Well, INTRODUCING, ME!” She performed a hasty pirouette but only succeeded in tripping over herself and landing on her rump. “Not that bally rock again?’
She got up huffily. “Well, as I was saying. Introducing me…AAANDAAAA WITHOUT FURTHER ADO – Introducing, yours truly, m’ms and gentries, Miss Theodore Matteo Hessia Devessiryuu Sry, yer honours! But you can call me Thea! Excellent singer, brilliant pipist, fantastic boxer and bally good at using a frog-sticker too! Flippin’ Cream of the Devess Crop, that’s me!” She bowed in all directions. “Thankyer! No need for all the applause!” She added modestly to the completely silent forest.
There was a soft chatter of quiet laughter from the squirrels. Thea turned and squinted up at the treetops, “Ya don’t have a flippin’ appreciation for good singers!”
***

And that was the introduction to my main Character...

Here's more on her:
***
“Bally HELL!” Thea screamed, “What is with the ROCKS in this area! Flippin’ pop out of nowhere and trip you!”
She scrabbled around the ground and grabbed her canvas sack, then looked around wildly for the rock to blame.
There was none.
***

What I'm gathering about Thea so far is:
1. Rocks (imagined or not) are out to get her
2. She adds 'bally', 'flippin', 'bloomin', and 'blinkin' to all her sentences
3. She calls a sword a 'frog-sticker'
4. She's very show-off
5. She definitely cannot sing (but she can play the pipe. =D)
6. She's just a bit crazy. Just a bit.


And here is a look at the other Characters:
****
Death groans and stands up. “Does she really find it necessary to kill him? Now I have to go and collect the soul.”
The Lady of Luck shrugs. “Send a Reaper.”
“I’d rather not. The new generation of reapers have this obsession with looking like skeletons. What an embarrassment.” He stretches and waves his hand. A scythe appears. He thinks for a few seconds, and then waves his hands again. The scythe de-materialises.
“Reaper!” He calls.
A skinny figure clad in a black cloak appears.
“Get rid of that ridiculous skeleton disguise.” He demands, “You have a soul to pick up.”
The figure nods and disappears.
“Young Reapers these days…” Death moans, “Can’t they just walk out the bloody door like normal people?”
****


ARE YA CONFUSED? ARE YA EXCITED?

LALALALA~ Since I'm in a writing mood... Here's a look at the story 'Untitled XD', a collaboration with Vincent. This is one of my favourite parts (because I wrote it, Duh)
*******
Vianne surveyed the sorry group standing at the entrance and made a quick head-count. 13, including herself. A fair number… She turned to Musper, who was shivering slightly in his torn clothes. ‘I think you should fill the hole.’ She inclined her head dispassionately towards the tunnel.
There were startled shouts of ‘But our friends!’, ‘How will they survive?’
‘If you don’t fill in the hole, WE will not survive.’ Another head appeared at the edge of the tunnel. Someone’s sister. She quickly weighed the pros and cons and gave it a swift, contemptuous kick. The head disappeared with a piercing cry. What did it matter? One less mouth to feed. One less voice to irritate her ears.
The children watched her with different levels of fascination and shock.
‘Go on,’ said Mordi, ‘Fill it in.’ He kicked some dirt into the hole. There were protesting cries.
‘You can’t do that!’ Lucas disapproved when some of the children began obligingly pushing dirt into the tunnel. ‘The other kids might die!’
‘If they don’t die, they’ll be captured,’ Vianne replied.
‘That’s bad too! We have to save them!’ He ran over and waved his arms at the children. Some of them looked up and regarded him with blank, unsympathetic eyes. ‘Hey but, they’re our friends!’
‘We don’t have time.’ Mordi told him in a soft voice. ‘Vianne, throwing dirt in there will not do much.’
The girl had walked over to the edge of the tunnel and pulled a pocket knife out, flicking it open and closed pensively. ‘I haven’t killed before.’ She remarked dreamily.
‘No… you haven’t…’ Mordi replied slowly, as he warily advanced towards her from behind. ‘What are you planning to do?’
She ignored his question and turned to Musper, ‘How did you dig this tunnel?’
‘Uh…We sent Boris up and he started the front, and we followed in single-file…did the rest…’
‘Technically, the tunnel is ‘Boris’-width?’ Vianne continued slowly, patiently.
‘Yes’m…’ Boris stepped forward, he was a plump youth with a low IQ, ‘Tis me who was at the head of the tunnel.’ Vianne regarded him, as if she was trying to come to a conclusion.
Mordi’s mind raced ahead and came to a terrifying conclusion. There were screams from below as Boris lowered himself obediently into the entrance of the tunnel and packed the earth around him snugly.
‘That’s right.’ Vianne said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry about the screams, they’re nothing to do with us, right Boris? Are you nice and snug?’
There was something in the tone that did not suit Vianne’s personality. The children had backed away, trying to figure out what she was doing.
‘Will you stay there for us?’ Vianne cooed, ‘Give those nasty children a big kick. That’s right. Now how am I going to know that you’ll stay here and not get scared and run away?’
‘You can trust my word’m,’ said Boris honestly. He was a simple-minded boy.
‘Just one more thing, Boris.’
Mordi noticed the flash of the afternoon light reflecting on the penknife in her hand. It looked unnaturally sharp. When did she sharpen it?
‘There’s a good boy, tip your head back.’ Boris seemed to resemble a sacrificial bull as Vianne held his head back gently. ‘This won’t hurt one bit.’
Boris never saw it coming. He heard the warning shouts of some of the children who had realised what was happening, but the small hand on his forehead reassured him. Mis’m Vianne was a nice girl…He’d just have to trust her…There was a strange burst of pain when his neck opened with a spray of wetness, and he succumbed to a drowsy state. There was a red spreading over his shirt…Trust Mis’m Vianne…He told himself…Mis’m Vianne knows best….
Vianne let Boris’ heavy head slump forward and began wiping her knife on the grass. She tucked it away briskly. It was harder than she thought. The skin looked soft to the touch, but the cartilage inside had required a little hacking.
There was a long silence as the children stared at Boris’ inanimate body, buried at the entrance of the tunnel, his fat upper torso protruding and the front of his shirt soaked red with blood, which was slowly dripping into the mud.
’13 is an unlucky number anyway.’ Vianne told them, ‘I like 12 much better.’
***

<3>

WE ARE UNDEFINED ~

According to the Concise Oxford Dictionary, Tenth Edition, there is no such thing as
a Blog/Blogger/Blogosphere, etc. Therefore, I must be the tragic bearer of the news that-according-to-the-snobs-up-there-in-oxford, WE DO NOT EXIST. =D

I thought I might just like to define Blogger:
blogger /bl-aw-g-ah/
- n. Derog:
1. writer of a blog
2. (Pop. Cult). person operating under the illusion that others have a desire to read what they write
3. (Euph.). You
- DERIVATIVES: Blogography n. Blogographic adj. Blogographical adj.
- ORIGIN C24: from the crazy confines of the internet. Eng.
=D
I'm going to be greatly disappointed if there is a pro definition in the 11th or 12th edition. *dies of shame*

ANYWAAAY:
Here is a:~ Blog to impress, express, depress, oppress, compress, repress, suppress, winepress and own you wholesale >=]~

Note the 'own you wholesale' is punned (well not really) from the National Anthem of 'Ankh-morpork', named 'We can rule you wholesale' from the Discworld series by Terry Pratchett, who coincidentally shares a birthday with me and Saddam Hussein. (Still proud of it)

Here's a snapshot of 'We can rule you wholesale':
"When dragons belch and hippos flee
My thoughts, Ankh-Morpork, are of thee
Let others boast of martial dash
For we have boldly fought with cash
We own all your helmets, we own all your shoes
We own all your generals - touch us and you'll lose.
Morporkia! Morporkia!
Morporkia owns the day!
We can rule you wholesale
Touch us and you'll pay.
We bankrupt all invaders, we sell them souvenirs....."

Oh Muahahaha >=] <3>OMG 'Muahahaha' just reminded me of good ol' Yr 9. Sometime around then, me and my awesome Beta, Tam decided:

OH EM GEE, LET US CREATE A GROUP!!!
We named it: MWR (Mad Women Ranks), and recruited Bernice.
Sadly, the madness was lost to everyone else and our group's ego eventually shrivelled up and died and the group disintegrated.

Tam, who is currently sitting next to me and breathing down my neck, says:
IT DIDN'T DISINTEGRATE, it just phased out of existence!

Anyway, yours truly is currently positioned in the front row of Latin Class. I feel increasingly awkward as I am typing while blankly looking at the teacher, (Yay touch-typing), and making irrevelant comments like 'mm' and 'yes' and 'ah'. So maybe this isn't the greatest time to be blog-writing.

I should be learning about perfect passive past tense and things like how ‘and then Paris said: O mea Deliciae! Da mihi osculum!’ (Oh my darling! Give me a kiss!) (Yes, the many Joys of learning latin)

So Goodbye for now ~

~ Charel who has just bought herself 500 grams of lemon cola and sour mandarin gummies...omnomnom…

I HAS a BLOG (D:)

OHAI FIRST POST~
First I would like to say:
OMG SO PISSED THAT THEY DON'T HAVE CALIBRI. T_T CALIBRI IS THE FONT THAT SHAPES MY LIFE. T_T So I'm resorting to Trebuchet. What, a, shame. =D

Anyway lah...
I'm currently staring at the screen and thinking.
GEEZ...I'm so sad I'm making a blog~

Well ok. It's not the first time. I made a blog before after being coerced by Vincent. It has ONE post on it. =D Just for VInce. And then I ditched it
http://charelhenc.blogspot.com/

Someone should really tell me what normal people do on first posts in blogs. Do I introduce myself? Holy...
Why would I want to introduce myself. You're getting bored already, my introduction is going to make you yaaawn to kingdom come.

And I can prove it!
Here goes....introduction... (Kakashi-style)
Ohai, my name is Rachel, as you can seeee~ (Or did I put it as Charel Henc... IGNORE THAT~)
My hobbies are eating skittles, eating skittles and eating skittles. And playing piano, story-writing, beta-ing, talking to YOU (or maybe not), walking around randomly, getting wet in the rain, talking to birds (because then they'll fly away instead of pooping on your head) and MOOORE
I like Music in general, reading books (most of them), talking to no one, the colours Orange, Black and Red (but not together, eww), observing people and eating skittles.
I love. SKITTLES.
I love. MY WIFEY
I love. JANICE KAM
I love. My CUTE SISTER
I love. MY ADORABLE (they hate being called Adorable) LITTLE BROTHER
Hey wait. There was no particular order to that ok? =O
There are a lot of things I dislike.
My dream for the future? *floats away*

^^

Anyway, I'm in Chinese, first period, oh wait, no, second period, writing this up. As usual, I AM HIIIIIGH. And annoying the heck out of people~

Not really, I'm only being High inside ahahaha..

My life is currently going fantastically on the outside and my internal environment is ok.

I was just thinking, its funny how people can hold a double life. Internet gives you a new dimension of confidence doncha think? AWESOME. I CAN GO ON ONLINE FORUMS AND PRETEND TO BE A FIFTY YEAR OLD LADY PREYING ON 21 YEAR OLD MEN. Ok...I won't lala That was just a thought I was relating to a friend of mine...

Btw, on fmylife:
Today, while in class, a cute boy came up and asked me for my number, I giggled and wrote my phone number on a piece of paper and told him to call me sometime, he gave me a weird look and walked away. He was asking which number math problem I needed help with. FML

EPIC FAIL. =D

SOMEONE SHOULD REALLY WRITE ME A MANUAL OF WHAT TO DO IN BLOG POSTS.

Yeaaaah. Anyway, I must say that I am totally, absolutely, crazily happeh to announce to no one in general that I'm beginning a series (because that's what bored, nerdy girls do).

BUT IT HAS NO NAME. D: I'm currently housing it in a folder called 'FABULAEMAGNIFICAE', if you do Latin you'll realise what a stupid name it is. I've got the general story line and am plotting out the geography and stuff of my series.

Here's one of the countries:
Kildrenree: The country where you stab everything you can’t steal and steal everything you can’t stab. And throw everything else over the fence. Headquarters of Thieves and Assassins of the Theiasian empire. Currently hoards the most treasures in the entire known World D. Part of Novealian Empire, but stole the throne of Noveali upon being invaded. Also stole the head of the King. And stole also stabbed the king's brother. (Too hard to steal an entire person, doncha think?)

I love Kildrenree, I'm planning it as the birthplace of random characters like:
Lightfinger: Small time thief with no skill in stabbing. But is pro at stealing. And is in love with some random opera singer he's never met.
Carynsaeis: Assassin with a dagger called 'Hair'. Dislikes talking, albinos and Royalty. Famous for stabbing an entire country. (How do you stab a country?)
Rasiel: Random Assassin thief person who likes stealing the teeth of his victims. Hence a warehouse with LOTS of teeth in it.

Yes. They're only half developed so they sound very...random. THEY'RE NORMAL PEOPLE, I SWEAR.

Another country in progress:
Basilica: Country of a bazillion gods where you worship a different God at every street corner. Or find an excuse to invent a new God for everything. Similar to -
Mokkor: Country of infinity gods, where you worship a different God at every floorboard, tile, blade of grass...
This will be fun...

Ok, no more story rambling cos class is over. (Oh muahahaha)


BE HAPPY~
(And eat skittles while you're at it)