Hello!

Hey peeps! I blogging again. YAY!!! Anyway today we barely did any work and the other team was totally jealous. Plus, I don't have any activities tonight.

Yay!!!

Kat

Hey Guys!

Hey y'all! I just got back from dance so I took a shower. I am so sore I can barely walk! OMG! My Hip Hop teacher is great though. I mean she works us hard, but it's totally worth it. I mean at least I can work on my splits, which are coming along very nicely. And then I did the unthinkable afterwords... I ate ice-cream, but I was burning. I mean seriously, my ears were bright red! (That's what happens when I get a great workout.) Plus my shirt was soaked through, and not from the rain, although that would've felt great. Anyway have to sleep soon, oh and please, please, please look at my book below this post.

Bye y'all,

Kat

Okay Guys, Here's the Story

Chapter 1

My mother used to tell me wonderful stories. Stories with action and suspense, and strangely enough, there was always a little child as the main character. The child wasn’t normal. In fact, it was always an alien…my age at the time. I lived on those bizarre stories. I never pretended that they might contain any truth whatsoever. Instead, I just reviewed them through my head and attempted to act them out, over and over and over again. But, Mother traveled a lot, since she had mysterious friends in far away places, and therefore, I cried a lot. No matter how much I begged to either go with her or for her to stay at home with me, she went… alone.

By the time I turned eight, I was used to her leaving. She just made up the days she was gone in her most special stories.

Unfortunately, one trip, she didn’t come back. She was late by 15 days, and at the time, I was 10. I screamed at my nanny and the household staff although they had done nothing wrong and certainly didn’t know anything about her disappearance. I knew screaming didn’t help, plus I was way to old to carry out something as absurd as that, but I was too upset to care. Occasionally, I even stayed in my room the whole day through and fasted, but still, my mother did not return. Even through my ridiculous rituals she wouldn’t come back and hold me; to let me know she was fine. Two long years passed and no Mom. My father didn’t even post a missing person report. He wasn’t purposely being harsh or cruel; he said he just didn’t feel the need too. Of course I didn’t see his point of view and pleaded him to do something about the situation. But alas, he did nothing and instead asked politely for my nanny and his personal bodyguard to take the kicking and shrieking me out of his study. The scariest part of the whole circumstance was that he looked at me as if he felt bad that he knew something and I didn’t. That I was clueless about this certain area of his life that I almost, but didn’t quite belong in.

On my 12^th birthday I wished into the blown smoke rising from the spark at the end of the candle, that my best friend were there. Now, let’s just take a break. To understand fully what’s about to happen, you need to believe. You’re probably asking what to believe in. My answer is stories. My answer is you. My answers are dreams. What if Martin Luther King Jr. didn’t believe white people would treat blacks like people? What if Americans didn’t believe in freedom? All the pioneers into uncharted maps were probably told that it was impossible or that it did not exist. So maybe Superman or vampires survive not only in dreams, but the real world as well. And yes, occasionally, I will be sidetracking. Anyway, back to the story. Suddenly, there was a tap-tap at the front door. One of the house servants rushed to the red oak door and cautiously opened it. The staff member suddenly beamed brightly and threw open the door. There standing on the threshold was my best friend in the blossoming flower dress that she had planned to come back in two years before. Her hair fell in ringlets past her shoulders and her crystal blue eyes sparkled with triumph. But it seemed as if sadness and new understanding also waited behind her complex eyes. If you couldn’t guess it was my mama. Yes, Mama is supposed to be said in a Spanish accent. So if you’re reading out loud or in your head, please pronounce it in a Spanish accent. Okay! Back to my tale. Everyone in the room was screaming at the top of their lungs and bouncing off the walls, even my new friends. Except, for my father. He just made his version of that annoying frequently used crooked smile that every girl is absolutely supposed to like; well, at least in storybooks.

”How was the trip?” the quiet, handsome, man asked Sophie, a.k.a. Mom. Mom smiled nervously. With that small little gesture that she was trying very hard to hide, I knew something bad had happened. Something that perhaps one day I would take part in. Little did I know, and closer than anyone would have expected, I would find out what that welcoming meant. Until then, I just had to enjoy life and wonder the possibilities as an innocent other.

WORK!!!

Hey y'all! I have way too much work to do! :-P Plus I've only almost finished outlining the 4th chapter. BBBBBLLLLLLAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!! I might treat you guys to the first, but be warned, it's not totally finished.

Bye y'all,

Kat

Hi!

Sorry I haven't blogged for so very long, but I've grown and have always been busy. Anyway, welcome back to our blog.

-Kat