Writing-4-All

The true story of Snow White Prince Charming wasn't a prince to start with. He was an accident caused by two young lovers. Not wanting to be accused of adultery, the abandoned him in the woods near a cave of wolves hoping not to be charged with adultery. Luckily, a kindly enchantress named Mildred rescued the boy and brainwashed the kingdom into thinking he was the prince. For a while, things were fine...till he got hmself in a screw up. "you told your cousin Frederick what?!" Mildred gasped. "I was embarssed okay." Charming said. "you know that bedtime story you made up for me...the one about the princess who eats the poisoned apple?" "S

"Ella, Ella, dear, please stop crying." I looked at my best friend, who was currently sobbing, and sporting a hand print on her cheek.  I've always been an older sister figure to Ella, and it hurts me when she hurts. Ella is about 21, and I, at 35, am a good bit older. But I knew her father, and my parents were her Godparents. I've always loved my God-sister, as did my family, and we are always here for her when she needs away from her step-mother and -sisters. They are, without a doubt, some of the most horrible people you'd ever meet, to abuse a girl such as Ella. And I had no doubt her stepmother had put that handprint on her.  As Ella dr

A rocket bursts into the sky, giving a split second of light to the ebony sky. Gun shots can be heard, and so can the calls of war. A girl, in the middle of now empty battle field, looks down at the corpses that surround her, then at the young man standing not far from her.  Each of them holds a staff, and is robed in a cloak corresponding to their Eternal Callings. A groan is heard from the soldier, not anything but a mere boy, at her feet. Eyes flutter, and the young warrior looks up to the young woman now crouched above him, her eyes filled with sadness. "Are you an angel? Am I dead?" he murmurs, and she realizes he is French, f

"Bonding can happen in the worst places, as it is often trials that bond us together." -Me Chase Reinhardt couldn't think of a worse place to even think of anything emotional, being in the middle of a firefight. But the stupid worry had crossed his mind, and it refused to vacate.  Ve Sama crouched down beside him, behind an upturned table, recognizing his friend's worried look. "She's going to be alright, you know. Michaela and Anna are with her, and soon you will be as well." Chase ran a hand through his hair, sighing. His wife had gone into labor, was having their newest child, and he was here, several hours away in the middle of a hostag

It all started on the first day of school, it was my junior year, and I was nearly bursting with excitement. I met up with Mandy and Zoey, and we headed off to my first class, which was History of Literature. As I said goodbye and entered the classroom, my heart fell; this class was full to the brim of idiots and Neanderthals that thought this was an easy class. That didn't seem to faze Mrs. Hoblestien, the teacher. Then again, she was so old, nothing really fazed her. I found out who everyone else was when she called roll. "Andrea Collins?" That'd be me. "Check. Rachael Ganders? Check. Michael Grim? Check. Robert Hood? Take off the hat boy.

Yokota Air Base, Japan 1999 I forgot to cross my "t". It was embarrassing, really. I knew how to write—how to sign my own name. Of all things to forget, I forgot to cross my "t". It appeared twice in my name, but I only forgot one. In all its shiny, permanently laminated glory, my I.D. card—my first I.D. card—read "Chrislina Roberts," not Christina. "You need more SA." My dad examined the brown card, the official seal shinning in the light. TDY is the proper word for it. I remember riding in my parent's car when I was seven throwing the word around in my head, trying to grasp what it meant. They never referred to his deployment by anything

"Why isn't Barbie a brunette?" "Because it's Barbie, she's been blonde since the fifties." "You're blonde." "Yup." I glanced at the row of highlighter pink plastic boxes as we looked through the Girl's aisle at Wal-Mart. The fluorescent lights beat down on us and the neon glare had begun to hurt my eyes. "She has blue eyes too, just like you." "My eyes aren't blue, they're gray." "Blue." "Gray!" I promised my little sister that I would pick her up a toy from Wal-Mart when I came down from college for the holiday season. I had to admit, her method of inquiry was beginning to grate on my nerves. I loved her, but it had been non-stop si