Stories we have written:

By popular request, I have brought this thread back from the oblivion of the third page. (Well, one person said something. :P You can decide whether that counts as popular request, I guess.)

Chapter 9
Flat on my stomach, I peered through the tall tufts of grass at the imposing mass of structures which comprised Grukblognackd. The city was a still many miles away, but with the excellent field-glasses which Mezimor had provided I could see the defenses plainly. For an hour I had been intent on the stream of traffic which came and went from the front gate, calculating my best chance of getting through. Often large groups were let in together, and I thought if I kept my face covered I could slip in with one of these; an inconspicuous figure among the hundreds of “country folk” which I knew from Joksha visited the city each day. Many of those who came out were riding in the little spaceships which I recognized from the day my own craft had been attacked, and I wondered why they came out of the gate, rather than flying over it. From the way the crowds on foot separated to let them through, I surmised that they were higher in the social order.

All at once, I sensed that I was not alone, and turned to see Mezimor hunched over near me. A jerk of my head brought him over, and he stretched out next to me, resting his elbows on the ground.

I motioned to another bunch that was approaching the gates. “I think I could get in on the outskirts of one of those big groups.”

“Yes, I expect so.” He returned. “You’d need a bundle of some sort, though. Those are mostly Triffligh, bringing food in for the city.” Seeing my confused glance, he explained further. “They are the farmers and laborers. On Huppyim there are no great beasts such as you tell of on your own land. Like the Ulfrae, they always eat what you call bread and vegetables, though some of the very rich and important Ishchangagnk have meat from the small creatures you have seen, though as I told you before, there are not many of them. The Ulfrae do not think it is good.”

I frowned in thought. Mezimor had told me stories of his adventures in the unpopulated and wild parts of Huppyim, but I knew nothing about the Ulfra homeland. The level of technology was also puzzling to one from earth. They seemed to be at about an 1800’s stage of knowledge, - I had learned, for instance, that the main Ulfrae lands were on a different continent so they must have had some way of crossing the ocean - but their cloths were much more primitive. Then there was the confusing different grades of weapons. The Ishchangagnk had used something to shoot down my ship, presumably projectiles at least as powerful as the anti-aircraft weapons that had been in use on earth a few hundred years ago, yet when they met us in battle, they fought with spears and shields. My head started to ache with perplexity.

The companionable silence which had prevailed for several minutes was broken by Mezimor shifting his position. “We’d better head back to camp and get you started on your way. You’ll make the city before the gates are closed if you start after lunch, but you should practice in your disguise for a while.” Crawling backwards until the crest of the hill concealed us fully from observation, we stood and walked towards the Ulfrae encampment.

When we ducked into my quarters after a substantial lunch, Joksha was laying out cloths for me which brought an exclamation of surprise to my lips. “What…where did these come from?” I asked. “Surely that’s not what the enemy soldiers were wearing?” Stepping up, I examined the suit more carefully. This was a woven cloth, more form-fitting that the attire the Ulfrae wore, and much more what I had expected considering their other advancements.

“It is what a Triffligh would wear.” Mezimor explained. “The Grembl who attacked us wore something similar under their breastplate and cloak. This is more like what we would wear in our own land.” He signaled Joksha to go out, and showed me how to garb myself in the disguise. It was the first time Mezimor had voluntarily mentioned his home, and I pressed for more information.

“Why don’t you wear these cloths on your exploring trips? Isn’t it more comfortable than skins?”

Mezimor laughed. “We did wear such things when we first came, but they have long since worn out, just as your cloths did. What we use now are not skins, but the product of a plant which is very prevalent in this land. The Ishchangagnk use it for their cloaks, which made you think in the dark that they were dressed much like us. If you had not been so lazy this morning, you would have seen Joksha retrieve this outfit for you before we buried them.”

“Is Grembl the word for soldier?” I asked.

Mezimor considered. “In a way, I suppose: it is like the Triffligh, a fighting class instead of a farming one. The rulers are called Orglac.”

“Are there such classes among the Ulfrae?” I queried.

“Not really, or not to such an extent. We have chiefs, and they pick from their followers men deemed worthy to be advisors. The leader and his circle of councilors have one personal servant each, but we treat them for the most part as equals, remembering when we ourselves were in the ranks. Each chief handles his responsibilities differently, but Melek is one of many who have decreed that the advisors share watch duty and camp work with the men.”

I frowned in concentration as I attempted to fasten my shirt. The “buttons” were more like hooks, and were causing me no end of trouble. “Mezimor, why don’t you tell me about your people? Why are you all over here on the Ishchangagnks’ land? I’ve told you many things about my home.”

The big alien stepped over and reached for my boots, handing them to me with a thoughtful expression. “I guess the main reason is that I miss Ulfrae so much. Talking reminds me. We’ve been watching the Ishchangagnk for five years now.”

I dropped the boot I was holding in surprise. “But why? Five years! I thought this was just a routine exploring trip like you’ve described to me many times.”

“No.” Mezimor shook his head. “We haven’t gone exploring for seven or eight years now. Ever since Changagnk became governor of the Ishl.”

Dressing forgotten, I sat down on the edge of my bed and folded my hands, eyebrows raised encouragingly. Mezimor smiled slightly. “Oh very well.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “About eight years ago, the Ishl and Ulfrae were friends. They traded goods, and visited each other’s cities freely. All this changed when their governor died. Unlike the Ulfrae, all the Ishl are under the sole control of one leader: the governor of their biggest city. The new governor was greedy; his dream was to basically enslave all the Ishl for his own personal gain. To do this, he needed to control all of the weapons, especially the gunpowder. This could not happen as long as the Ishl traded with the Ulfrae. On trumped up charges, he threw our merchants out of his city, and ignored the protests of the chiefs.

“We had no choice but to withdraw to our own continent. At first, we thought this would be the end of the matter, but Changagnk was not content. He changed the name of the Ishl to Ishchangagnk, and continued to increase his hold on them in every way he could. Soon, ambiguous threats began to make their way across the ocean. We were accused of the most ridiculous things: encouraging the Triffligh to rebel, smuggling gunpowder, and much more. These things concerned the General Council, and they decided to send Melek and his followers over to keep an eye on things. And here we have been ever since. Until you came, we hoped that the Ishchangagnk didn’t even know of our existence - at least they had not made any further moves to provoke the Ulfrae - but I fear war is now inevitable. Two years ago, Changagnk died, and we hoped at first that the old order would be reinstated. Instead, his son took over, and continued the outrages of his father.”

“Wow.” I shook my head in amazement. “Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier? It would have helped some things make sense.”

“It is not your fight, Qaton. Your coming is only part of the problem, and rescuing the humans is only part of the solution.”

“Look here.” I stood up, and became aware that I was still only wearing one boot. “When I said that the humans weren’t your problem,” I paused to guide my foot into the shoe, “you said that the Ulfrae didn’t like tyranny.” I stamped my foot on the floor to get my heel all the way into the boot. Whoever had worn these boots last was about a size smaller than me. My eyes met Mezimor’s stubbornly. “Well, maybe I don’t like it either. You can’t force me off this planet - who knows if I’d even be able to leave - or keep me from fighting alongside the Ulfrae.”

Mezimor grinned. “Why did I have a feeling that would be your response? You certainyl do not lack for bravery, Small One, whatever you may want in sense.”
It was my turn to smile now. “You sound like my brother, Jake.”

“Indeed? Now who has been hiding things? I have heard nothing of this brother of yours.” Mezimor laid the flowing cape over my shoulders, and fastened it at my neck. A flick of his wrists brought the hood up over my head, and he stood back to survey the effect.

I shrugged. “He’s just…Jake. Always looking out for me whether I want him to or not; pulling the big brother card to get me to do things. He didn’t really want me to come on this mission. Said I did it for the love of adventure. Maybe he was right…” my words trailed off into silence as I remembered that last conversation before I left radio range.

Don’t do anything excessively stupid, and come back in one piece. I… He’d been cut off before he could finish, and I had wondered what he’d been about to say. Recalling my thoughts with a start, I cleared my throat gruffly and changed the subject.

“How do I look?”

Mezimor accepted my reticence, tilting his head to study my appearance. “You’ll do.” He pronounced after some deliberation. “Pull your hood forward as much as you can to shade your face, and come in with a group and you’ll be fine.”

We left the tent and headed back towards the lookout post. “You have your dinner?” Mezimor asked.

I patted my belt, where I had slung the pouch of food Joksha had prepared. He nodded approval. There seemed no more to say, so we walked in silence to the hill. “Well.” I turned toward Mezimor on the top of the hill. “I’m off then. Give me five hours to get inside the walls. That’ll put your attack near dusk.”

He gripped my outstretched hand. “Be careful Qaton.”

My only reply was a grin, and I swung off down the hill, while he stood near the crest watching until I was out of sight.

Cool! :)

By popular request, I have brought this thread back from the oblivion of the third page. (Well, one person said something. :P You can decide whether that counts as popular request, I guess.)

Yay! Does that mean I'm popular? ;) jks! Awesome addition btw!

I had a dream last night that I think may be the inspiration for a good book. However, most of the figures in my dream were you guys. At first I was thinking I would have to change the names if I ever wrote it… but then I thought how much fun it would be if I just kept your names the same. So now I'm going to ask if the following people don't mind if I include there names in the story (if I ever write it, which I would very much like to do sometime):

The main people in my dream:
Noah
Sam
Nicolas
Carissa
S.
Bethany P.
Seth
Hannah W. (the younger)
Margaret

Shadowing figures:
Sarah E.
Nathan
Rosie
Lizzy
Miles
Jackson
Ian
Caleb

If I actually write the story I might have to cut out quite a few characters because there is no way I could write it the same way I dreamed it, or it would make absolutely no sense at to anyone but me. :\

Edit- Then again, there's a pretty good chance I'll get busy and never finish the story at all…

Sure! You can use me =)

And of course, Noah and I are main characters. Does he have a banananana?

If you ever do write the story, you can certainly use my name. :)

I WAS A MAIN CHARACTER IN… YOUR DREAM!!!!!!!!!!! Yay! OF COURSE you can use my name! (IF you don't use my last name.) You can use just Hannah.

And of course, Noah and I are main characters. Does he have a banananana?

I don't mind if you use my name. :)

If you ever do write the story, you can certainly use my name. :)

If you ever do write the story, you can certainly use my name. :)

If you meant me Caleb :)

Well, it seems there is a lot of people, not only willing, but desperate to get their names in the story!

Well, considering that I wrote a joke and put your name into it without even thinking of asking, you could probably make an educated guess that I wouldn't mind you using my name as long as I get to read it at some point.
Am I the villain or the police officer?

Well, considering that I wrote a joke and put your name into it without even thinking of asking, you could probably make an educated guess that I wouldn't mind you using my name as long as I get to read it at some point. Am I the villain or the police officer?

Same thing.

More like the police officer. If I write it you will read it- promise! :)

@Noah, you and Sam get to be the villains… that's if you don't mind anyway. :)

Make me the evil, evil, evil, psychotic, crazy, insane one, okay?

I'll- I'll try my best.

I'm beginning to wonder what kind of story I've got on my hands here.

In my dream you and Sam nearly made my blood freeze… but what scares me might not be good enough for you. I've never met you or Sam in real life so I don't know… I guess I'll find out if I start writing. :)

Make me the insane, funny, psychotic strangler named "Noah the Boa" (because of my strangling tendencies!)

Chill out, Noah, I'm not coming back for good - just wanted to get this link up to a very short story I wrote called "The Spy." ;) http://bethanymeckle.weebly.com/1/post/2014/02/the-spy.html

The serpant and the eagle
Behany, 2-14-14, final
Several years ago there was an eagle who was continually looking for food to feed herself and her family. Since on this day she could not find anything she was very hungry and did not want her eaglets to go hungry. She swooped down low, looking for prey to grab. Spotting something in the large field she jumped upon it. However it was a snake and the eagle could not let go before the snake had coiled itself around the eagle. Soon, this struggle had turned into a life or death fight.
While the snake and eagle were fighting a farmer was working in the fields. Because It was a hot day the farmer, who was working extremely hard walked to the stream and filled his drinking horn with sweet water, drank it, and filled it again. He sat down to rest and saw the eagle and snake fighting. He jumped into the fight, grapping the snake and freeing the eagle. The snake, wanting to get revenge spat poison into the man’s drinking horn.

Exhausted from the crisis the farmer sat down on a nearby log. Drawing up his water he thought about how it would be nice if he was repaid for everything he did to help. But, after all, he was only a farmer of no value, he thought. Spotting something far of he glanced away. Feeling something drop he saw that his horn had been knocked out of his hand. Angry, he looked to see who could have done it. Seeing no one he bend over to pick up his drinking horn he noticed that the grass was starting to wither. Only then did he see the eagle sitting on a branch above him.

Just need so help expanding to make it longer. Thanks.

Oh, and I need a closing in the last paragraph that has the statement "One good turn deserves another*

It looks great! :-)

But I need it a little longer.

Just a quick statement, I do NOT need grammar correction ect by Margret. Thank you.

What about spelling? For starters, my name is spelled M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T.

Who cares? spell check said it was right.

Just a quick statement, I do *NOT* need grammar correction ect by Margret. Thank you.

I don't understand. Why do you not want help editing?

This is not a huge project. It is a 1 hour "What you learned application" activity.

I see. But still, it's always helpful when someone corrects you on things like bad grammar; that way, you probably won't make the same mistake in a bigger project. :)

Blah, blah, blah. Whatever… JK. Well consider this, I have been working on this for about 3 hours. I just want to get it done.

You used a semi-colon!

Who cares? spell check said it was right.

Spell check can sometimes be misleading. That is why it is so important to be able to spell yourself and know people who can edit things for you.

I did indeed… and I often do. Is there something strange about that? :P

Blah, blah, blah. Whatever... JK. Well consider this, I have been working on this for about 3 hours. I just want to get it done.

I'm sorry if I was overly pushy there. :) I just wanted you to know that asking someone to help edit is not a bad thing, but just the opposite. :)

Seeing a semi-colon on an on-line forum is like seeing a beautiful flower in a wasteland.

Thank you, thank you; your appreciation is appreciated.

I don't think you were being pushy. I just had a really bad day yesterday and wanted to be done with school.

. I...wanted to be done with school.

Don't we all?

I do know an editor. She is someone that often corrects my mom. Her name is Sarah.

See the first part. I am not going to tell you how bad it was, but it was pretty bad.

The first two parts of my story, with new title:

I've updated the online word version here http://1drv.ms/1c7R4j6
(On my browsers when I zoom in, it goes blurry. I don't know if it's just my computer or browser or something.. can you have a look?)
:)

"The Spy"

His heart skipped a beat as the footsteps grew louder. Why, oh why had he chosen to hide behind the door, of all places? For that matter, why had he ever thought he was equal to the part of a spy? Don't move… don't itch… oh, no, please don't sneeze! He managed to stifle the sneeze, but it was still louder than he had hoped.

Peter suddenly froze in fear. The footsteps had stopped – just on the other side of the door.

He nearly screamed as a huge hand reached around the door and grabbed him, dragging him out into the open.

"And what do we have here?" a deep, gravelly voice asked. "A spy, are you? Let's see your hat, lad."

A good spy must never let on that he is afraid, Peter's teacher had warned him. He threw his shoulders back and looked bravely into the face of his captor. He removed his had and, willing his hands to stop shaking, he handed it to the large man.

The man turned it over in his hands, felt the insides of the hat, and, eyeing the boy suspiciously, commented, "No signs of a secret message here. Might you be hiding it elsewhere?"

Not waiting for an answer he immediately began a more thorough search of the boy. Peter still stood tall and firm, bravely enduring the search.

Finally, not having found what he was apparently after, the man gave Peter a disgusted look.

"Boy, you do know what the penalty for spying is, don't you?"

"Aye, sir."

"Well, what is it, then?"

"Death, sir; by hanging, sir."

"Well then, lad, you might as well know that one of my men saw you carrying a message from your commander. You couldn't have had time to deliver it yet, as it's not been nigh an hour since he saw you. Now, then, where is it you've hidden it?"

Peter hesitated only for a minute. "Well, sir, if you must know –" He broke off and, kneeling on the hard packed ground, removed his shoe. He tugged at the bright silver buckle. Soon, the buckle came loose, and Peter removed a small folded piece of paper, which he handed to the large man.

The man took the paper, still staring at the boy. "You didn't do such a keep job of hiding yourself, lad, but the message –! I doubt if even King George himself could have found that!" Unfolding the paper, he read aloud, "Roast mutton, mashed potatoes, sweet corn…. Mighty fine job, my boy, mighty fine. I believe I'm smelling your mother's cooking all the way from here. Now, let's hurry before she and your sisters decide to eat it all!"

And with that, father and son hurried together up the muddy hill from the barn

Here's the first and second stories to a series of Bible Animal Stories (at least that's what I call them right now, for lack of a better name :P). I wrote these over a year ago and only have done a little editing to them. I would appreciate some input!

1. In the Beginning

In The Beginning
Written by Courtney Minica
1-18-13

In the beginning, things were much different from what they are now. A terrible curse has been thrust upon this world of ours. But this is not the way it always was. No, this is not the way it was meant to be. In the beginning, the Supreme King created all things flawlessly, (including me) and ruled sovereignly over us all. That all changed after the Curse. But who, you wonder, would want to curse such a perfect world, changing it for ever? Wouldn't everyone want it to stay just the way it was? Well, I did, but not all of God's creatures were submissive to His will. Let me just tell you my whole part in the story…

One bright morning, I opened my eyes, and beheld an enchanting garden that I had never seen before. In fact, I had never seen anything before, for as I learned later, the King of the garden had formed me just then. But I did not think of that; I was too dazzled with the beauty and charm I saw all around me. I gazed at the broad blue sky overhead, and the velvety green grass underneath. My eyes feasted on attractive trees, vines, bushes, and dainty flowers nearly everywhere, and some of the trees were laden with delicious looking fruit and nuts. I caught a glimpse of the sun, shedding light every way it's beaming face turned, and I stared at the brook: bubbling, splashing, and murmuring; wending it's way to another destination. I also watched wiggly silvery little animals swimming down the stream. I squinted at flying animals soaring high over the treetops, and small chattering animals swinging on vines and scrambling along unsteady branches. There were larger animals down on the ground with me as well, some shaggy and furry, some hairy, while others were leathery. I heard something warbling and trilling in the mighty oak to my right, and the brook sang quietly to itself. Everything seemed to be singing! There were tiny insects you could hear buzzing in the flowers. The sun shining down brought a pleasant warmth to us beneath the trees.

That almost completed the altogether delightful scene, but the crisp breeze brought an appetizing scent wafting across my nose, which reminded me that I was hungry. So I stood up and ambled hungrily towards a nearby vine sagging with luscious grapes. But just then, unfortunately for me, a cool mist started to spring up out of the earth. So startled was I, and so hasty were the springs that I took forward, that my head collided with the foremost bunch of grapes. To add to my misery, as I picked my way out of the wreckage of my breakfast, I discovered that my thick golden fur had been stained purple by the grapes! The camaderie of my fellow creatures were not very sympathetic of my plight. They snickered and chortled and howled until they couldn't laugh any more. However, the misty dew from the ground that had given me such a fright proved to be very refreshing, and helped greatly to right my appearance, by giving me dampness to wash with. It's suddenness was rather alarming the first few times, nonetheless.

By the time I had finished grooming, I was craving food rather badly, so I began to wander about, and soon espied a fig tree. I was busily engaged in devouring some of this delicacy when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and turning around, I gaped at an animal unlike any of the others I had seen. He stood uprightly on two legs, and he wasn't furry, hairy, or even scaly, but smooth instead. He told me something, and I'll never forget it. What he said was, "You will be named 'lion'." Then he strolled away. 'Lion', so I am a lion. It is a distinguished name, and I am grateful to him for telling me. I like it; it has a nice ring to it. I took a liking to him, so I followed him, and he scratched behind my ears when I leapt to his side. He gave names to other animals also, while I was with him, like 'dragon' for some of the leathery and scaly ones, 'bird' for some of the flying ones, 'bear' for some of the furry ones, 'dog' for some of the hairy ones, and on and on and on. He must have named all of the creatures in the garden!

I remember the day I first met my mate - the prettiest lion around! I was examining a section of the garden I had not paid close attention to before, and then I saw her. I was struck dumb at first by her beauty, and I couldn't do but stare, but when I went up to her, she appeared to like me, so she became my mate, and we spent a lot of time together. All of the animals seemed to be finding mates. I had noticed that the man (the two-legged creature) was solitary. He alone did not have a mate like himself. But the King put him to sleep, and taking one of his ribs - made a perfect mate for him! (I did not see this myself, but rumour and truth both spread rather quickly in the garden.)

There were many diverse kinds of fruit trees and vines in the garden, but there was one terrifying tree that I never dared to go near, and I once overheard some talkative monkeys mentioning it as the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. It had such a forbidding air about it; almost as if someone, or something, had prohibited it and was guarding it. There were plenty of other bushes and trees anyway, so I avoided that part of the garden whenever possible. I spent my days eating, sleeping, and exploring. Everyone obeyed the unspoken law to "keep away from that tree!"

Things went on that way for a while, but then the serpent came. He was a handsome creature, with colorful scales on his body, but he was crafty, and had an evil way about him. One day the woman, (the man's mate), was eating from the olive tree beside the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Why she ever went near that place I don't know, but she did. The only reason I was nearby was because I was searching for a good place for my mate to birth our cubs, and I heard the serpent's whiny voice coming from the scary tree.

"Did God really say," the serpent questioned, his tone sly and cunning. "Did God really say not to eat the fruit of every tree in the garden?"

"We are allowed to eat the fruit of most of the trees in the garden", the woman replied, "but God said that we should not eat the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden. He said that if we even touch it, we will die that same day."

I was startled, and moved closer. So that was why none of us animals ventured near that tree. The King had forbidden it!

"You will not die." the tempter lied. "God told you that because He knows that the same day you eat from it, you will become like gods, because you will know right and wrong."

I noticed the woman looking at the forbidden fruit, and she desired it. Yes, she wanted it very badly! She moved slowly toward the tree, and reaching up, pulled off a tempting piece. She eyed it in her hand for a moment, and glanced doubtfully at the serpent. He nodded reassuringly at her, so she boldly took a big bite, hurriedly chewed, and swallowed. Her face lit up, and she rushed off, presumeably to share her so called good discovery with her mate, the man (I think his name was Adam). I was aghast, and trotted after her, being anxious as to what would happen next. I found them cowering by a fig tree, sewing some of it's leaves together as fast as they could. They made a sort of tunic, and dressed themselves in it. It was now evening, the time when the King of the garden walked and talked with Adam. I heard him coming, and calling for Adam. "Where are you?"

"I heard you calling for me", Adam stammered, "and I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid."

"Who told you you were naked?" the King asked him, his voice full of surprise and gentle reproach. "Have you eaten of the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden, that which I told you not to eat?"

Adam turned off the blame on the woman, saying: "The woman who you gave me to be with me, she gave me some of the fruit, and so I ate."

"What have you done?" the King inquired of the woman (I think her name was Eve).

Eve, in turn, shrugged off the blame on the serpent, saying: "The serpent tricked me, and I ate."

And the King cursed the serpent with a horrible curse, and all of his craftiness and beauty, along with his legs, vanished in a moment. He slithered away ashamedly on his belly. So was Satan, the rebellious angel, (for it was he, in a serpent's body), vanquished for the time being. There would be more resistance coming from him, though.

Then the King pronounced another curse on Adam and Eve, all their seed, the world, and even the animals. He sacrificed a blood offering in the stead of them, and he banished them from the garden. The beautiful garden I had grown to love as home. The world has never been the same since that awful day. Now we animals eat not only the fruit of the trees, but meat, and that means we hunt each other, so we live in constant fear. Thorns and thistles grow from the ground. There is suffering and sorrow and tears. Men fight each other. And worst of all, everybody and everything dies some day. And all that as a result of one disobedience on the part of Adam and Eve. Disobeying God is a serious thing. When you are tempted to disregard God, or any of your authorities, remember this sad story, and think twice - remember that just as disobedience has great consequences, obeying has great rewards!

The King also promised that because He still loved His creations, one day He would send a Saviour to rescue to world from sin. He prophesied that the serpent would bruise the heel of the promised One, but the promised One would crush the head of the serpent. I think that is some thing to look forward to, for I liked life much better the way it was before the serpent deceived the woman. I hope the Saviour comes soon!

Well, you now know the story of the Beginning, and that this world is not the way the King intended it to be. The King still rules over the earth, but you have a choice. Will you serve the King, the rightful sovereign over all the universe? Or will you serve Satan, that vain rebellious ex-angel? I think you know which one you should choose. I am going to go hunt for my dinner now. (Eating meat is a result of the Curse too.) Until next time, then.

1. The Best Master I Ever Had (I don't really like that name, but oh well :P)

The Best Master I Ever Had
Written by Courtney Minica
1-22-13

I am an elderly sheep. I have had several shepherds, some for years, some for only hours, but there is one unforgettable master I have had whose memory will always stay in my mind and in my heart.

I was young, and just in my prime when I had this shepherd. His name was Abel. He had a mother named Eve, a father named Adam, and an older brother named Cain. I know that because he told us stories about them quite a lot, like about how his mother and father were banished from a beautiful place called The Garden of Eden, because they disobeyed the great King's command to them, and about when his mother and father took him to see the great fearsome cherubim guarding the gate of the garden when he was very little. He related childhood memories, and the story about how he decided to become a shepherd, while Cain chose to be a tiller of the ground, a grower of fruits and vegetables. These were happy times for us sheep, because we completely trusted Abel, and I, for one, felt totally safe with him.

Every morning, right after dawn, Abel would come and gently awaken us, and we would follow him out of the fold to the green pastures, where he would watch over us as we munched on the crunchy grass to see that no harm came to us. He warded away dangerous beasts more than once. When we had eaten our fill, he would take us to our watering place, and if it was running too high, he would walk round for hours if necessary, to find a suitable spot for us to drink. He truly cared to make sure that nothing bad or unsettling happened to us. When the light started to fade, we would climb back up the hill to the fold, and he would count us one by one to assure himself that we were all safe. If we weren't; if some little lamb or even the oldest ewe was missing, he would shut us all snugly into our beds, and instead of going to his tent, he would return into that seemingly endless darkness, and most often would return with the truant safe and sound in his arms. When he didn't; when he returned empty-handed, there would be a grieved expression on his face, as if he had lost a dear friend. We would go out again in the morning, and that cycle repeated itself day after day.

There was only one occasion when I dared to wander away from the flock, but it was the most frightening experience I have ever had, as old as I am. It was nearing dusk, and I began to look around for the stream, being thirsty. By the time I had found it and finished drinking, I looked up to see that the flock had disappeared, and I was alone. I ran as quickly as I could in the direction I thought they had gone, but the sun was setting, and I believe I only got further off track than I was before. I was really getting scared by this time, because I knew I didn't have a chance to get back before it became completely dark, and I probably couldn't get back by myself even in broad daylight. And worse yet, sheep have many predators that come out only when their prey is alone and in the dark. I didn't think then about that if I stopped where I was, Abel would have a much better chance of finding me: I just kept stumbling further and further into the swirling black mists, where terrible creatures lurked, just waiting to crush me in their strong jaws and tear my flesh with their razor sharp claws. I could hear them now, sniffing around, trying to catch a scent. Now and then I heard occasional growls and then bleats. It was not until later that I realized that the bleats had issued from my own mouth.

I kept plodding forward, hoping against hope that by some unknown Providence I could find the path leading back to the fold. There is always a chance for redemption, until you are dead and gone. So I kept on going. But all of a sudden I couldn't push ahead any longer - I was stuck in a clump of brambles! I fought with them, trying to tear my snagged wool out of them, but to no avail. I was stuck. The rustling and snarling seemed ever so much closer now that I couldn't run away from the unseen danger. And was that a pair of ravenous yellow eyes leering at me a few yards ahead? I would never be sure in later years. I was never so afraid in my life! It would be so terrible to be ripped apart by merciless fangs. I would rather drop down dead then and there than give in to such a horrible fate, but fighting it seemed to be useless. I was just about to give up struggling with the thistles and resign myself to the inevitable, when I heard a deep voice, and footsteps coming closer and closer. I wailed twice, and was about to fall to the ground in terror, but the next moment I found myself in the arms of Abel. He had searched half the night for his foolish runaway sheep, when I deserved to be left alone, and he had found me! He carried me all the way back to the fold, and tended my wounds, then laid me down to rest in the stall with my companions. I was extremely tired, but before dropping off to sleep I resolved in my heart that every day after this I was going to stay with the flock - and with Abel.

A few days after my adventure in the wilderness, the time of year had come when Abel and his family offered sacrifices to the King of the world, the One whom they had disobeyed, and Who had turned them out of the perfect garden they had lived in. Abel took our year's best lamb, built an altar of wood, and then offered the lamb to the King, kneeling down to signify his humility before an awesome Creator. We stared from afar off, as while Abel prayed, a column of flame shot down from the heavens, and consumed his offering, a token from the King that He accepted Abel's sacrifice. Abel stood up, and began to worship and sing as his altar burst into flames, looking up at the sky, thanking God for receiving him and cleansing him from sin. We never quite understood why one of us had to be offered to the King - the lambs were always in a great fright lest they should be chosen for the sacrifice. But we trusted Abel, and knew that he was only obeying the King's command. It was a touching scene, but on the other side of the meadow, another none too inviting incident was taking place.

Cain, our master's older brother, was a tiller of the ground, or farmer. He had worked very hard to raise a good crop that season, and now at sacrificing time he was bringing the best of his fruits to offer before his Creator. This may have seemed a worthy gift, but it was not what the King had commanded. His direction was to sacrifice to Him a blood offering, so Cain was not heeding Him - he was making the same mistake his parents had made before he was born. I went to the edge of the fold nearest Cain, being curious as to what would happen. His actions were similar to Abel's, he also being on his knees besides an altar of wood, pleading for the King to accept his offering and send a sign. I waited and waited, but no fire came down from heaven. Cain eventually ceased his prayer, and looking disconsolately at his sacrifice, glanced over at Abel's blazing altar. His expression fell sharply, and his face hardened until I could hardly recognize him. At that point in the drama, my thoughts were interrupted by a loud thundering from heaven, almost like a great voice, as I imagined. Apparently Cain thought so too, for his face changed from hardness to fury in an instant, and he shook his fist at the sky and marched away. I was shocked that he would so openly defy such a powerful Being, but I hardly had time to think of Cain right then, for Abel had finished his sacrificing, and was preparing to lead us to the fields.

The next day, we were out grazing as usual, and Abel was telling us one of his famous tales, when his brother Cain abruptly appeared in the pasture. Abel stood up to meet him, and Cain silently motioned to a small clearing screened by trees. Abel nodded, and they walked over there together. I followed at a little distance, never liking to be far, even for a brief time, from my master. When I reached the veiling of vines, I peeked through, and what I saw made me draw back in alarm. What I had observed, in that one brief look, was an image that would be burned into my mind, and stamped with horror for the rest of my life. Cain had let his overpowering anger and jealousy get the better of him, and he murdered his brother, my master, that awful day.

The last I ever saw of Cain was him and his wife heading out of the area, their few belongings with them. I was not surprised, considering what he did. I was glad to have him out of the place - my master's murderer. One thing I noticed that was different was that there was now a strangely shaped mark on his forehead that hadn't been there before. I heard later that the King had placed that mark on Cain so that he would be avenged if anyone tried to kill him. Adam and Eve, (Cain and Abel's parents) were very sad at first, as I can understand, having one son kill another, but soon Eve had another son, and called him Seth. He was a godly man, and a great comfort to his mother and father. I wonder if he will be the Saviour Abel told us about that the King had promised would come someday to put the world back to rights again?

I hope you will remember this true story, and never stay angry. It has big results if you don't take care of it. I need to leave now. My master is calling. He is a good man also, but impatient, and if I don't come, he scolds. So I am going now. Good-bye!

EDIT: I don't know why the paragraphs aren't separated in the comment - they are when I look at them here!

Awww, that's so sweet! :D

Read the first one - great job! That was a very creative idea:) I like it a lot. I'll read the second one pretty soon :):)

*"The Spy"* His heart skipped a beat as the footsteps grew louder. Why, oh why had he chosen to hide behind the door, of all places? For that matter, why had he ever thought he was equal to the part of a spy? Don't move... don't itch... oh, no, please don't sneeze! He managed to stifle the sneeze, but it was still louder than he had hoped. Peter suddenly froze in fear. The footsteps had stopped -- just on the other side of the door. He nearly screamed as a huge hand reached around the door and grabbed him, dragging him out into the open. "And what do we have here?" a deep, gravelly voice asked. "A spy, are you? Let's see your hat, lad." A good spy must never let on that he is afraid, Peter's teacher had warned him. He threw his shoulders back and looked bravely into the face of his captor. He removed his had and, willing his hands to stop shaking, he handed it to the large man. The man turned it over in his hands, felt the insides of the hat, and, eyeing the boy suspiciously, commented, "No signs of a secret message here. Might you be hiding it elsewhere?" Not waiting for an answer he immediately began a more thorough search of the boy. Peter still stood tall and firm, bravely enduring the search. Finally, not having found what he was apparently after, the man gave Peter a disgusted look. "Boy, you do know what the penalty for spying is, don't you?" "Aye, sir." "Well, what is it, then?" "Death, sir; by hanging, sir." "Well then, lad, you might as well know that one of my men saw you carrying a message from your commander. You couldn't have had time to deliver it yet, as it's not been nigh an hour since he saw you. Now, then, where is it you've hidden it?" Peter hesitated only for a minute. "Well, sir, if you must know --" He broke off and, kneeling on the hard packed ground, removed his shoe. He tugged at the bright silver buckle. Soon, the buckle came loose, and Peter removed a small folded piece of paper, which he handed to the large man. The man took the paper, still staring at the boy. "You didn't do such a keep job of hiding yourself, lad, but the message --! I doubt if even King George himself could have found that!" Unfolding the paper, he read aloud, "Roast mutton, mashed potatoes, sweet corn.... Mighty fine job, my boy, mighty fine. I believe I'm smelling your mother's cooking all the way from here. Now, let's hurry before she and your sisters decide to eat it all!" And with that, father and son hurried together up the muddy hill from the barn

Christians aren't supposed to write/read horror stories!

Noah, that is not a horror story. It is a 'history' story.

He knows. :P Don'tcha know when Noah is being facetious? :P