By Bre J. Smith, all in progress:

 

Dragonfly Wings

The Maiden Mist

Miss Kennedy

 

Allura

Mii, of Crane Tribe

Storm and Gale, The Story of Two Selkies

Rica and Estelle

 

In Search of the Sun's Rays (working title)

Luna (working title)

 

 

Today is more working on the site. Harry Potter comes out in 2 days. Really exciting. Personally, I’m holding on to the hope that when Harry kills Voldemort, he will somehow also put right all the wrongs of Voldemort. That’s to say, I hope that when Voldemort dies, all the good people that he killed will be released and can just live again. Otherwise, I’ve got a suspicious that either Ron or Hermione or someone like Hagrid that’s really close to Harry will end up dying. Come on! Harry’s already been forced to witness the death of both of his parents, and then Sirius, who was pretty much a brother and a father and a friend. Plus Dumbledore just kicked the bucket (though I’m not sure if it’s permanent). And if Harry goes through all of that, and then probably almost kills himself as he kills his arch enemy, and then has to live with all that darkness, and grief-- nope. That’s just cruel. I know Harry’s a fighter, but nobody that is that brave should have to go through more!

So, either Harry’s mum and dad and Sirius and everybody come back from the dead, or Harry sacrifices himself. Although, I think that Dumbledore isn’t really dead. I think he’s gonna find a way to bring James and Lilly and everybody back!

HaHa! And that’s my bit.

Sorry, not so much with my own writing right now. I can do that later, when the site is really up.

 

July 22, 2007

And... Harry Potter rocks!

Could there be a better end to a better series? Seriously. I didn't get to start reading the book until like 11.00, but I still managed to finish within the day. Well, actually, I think I finished at about 11.00 PM. So that's 12 hours of some reading that has no equal or parallel. Nope. It's been less than 48 hours, and Amazon.com already has about 200 reviews on the book.

 

I could see the scarring on Gwen’s back. She was no stranger to a good beating, and so her back said. Lines of red crisscrossed across her skin, making me think of a white canvas smeared with a child’s paint. I stared at her, my nearest friend in the world, and yet I knew that I would never know all about her. She had told me more than a year ago a concise summary of her life. But I would probably never know exactly when she had received her first beating, or who had overseen it. I would probably never know how she had reacted. Had she worn the same expression as she did now? A determined expression that was resolute against showing pain? 

Gwen bore no sign of pain, to anyone but me. As lashes slapped down upon her back, leaving angry streaks that did not fade, but seemed to seep farther down into her skin. Only I could see that inside her throat was screaming a world of curses. I could see her lips twitched, and that her eyebrows were raised, as if in shock.

My throat began to close, so that I could not breathe but a few shallow breaths at a time. My turn was next. An eternity rested in front of my eyes, blurring my vision against what awaited me. But an eternity did not seem long enough, for in the end, there was a sharp tugging hand on my arm, and suddenly I was thrown to the ground, the back of my fine dress was torn apart, so that all the tiny pearl buttons popped and sprang away. I was shivering with embarrassment; How had I ended up here? Had I not lived through illness and my mother’s death, and countless sword fight? Had I not already born a pirate’s life? And then I realized, with more force than a hammer, that I was still bearing a pirate’s life. I had knowingly entered into a profession that death or torture was inevitably the end. That in mind, I fixed my eyes on a tree in the distance, and felt the first bite of the whip. I could feel it ground itself into my back, snap against my spine. I gave an involuntary gasp. By the next blow, my eyes watered, and my lips were shaking. And by the fourth, I had called out in desperation, wishing that anyone might deliver me from the next whip.

So, by the final lash, my mind was dulled like a blunt sword. I was not aware of my surroundings, nor how many people had witnessed my screams. I was thinking of nothing but my back, which throbbed and bled like a separate creature.

--excerpt from Dragonfly Wings,

property and (c) copyright of Bre J. Smith.