mary

hey I took two of my pieces from different stories and merged them in this paragraph could you tell me if it sounds alright.

In her fourth hour of her labors pain exploded before her eyes like starburst . Her bare body, slick with sweat, shook with the strain of trying to keep conscious. This, Lilianna Freydil knew, would be the death of her. Hot fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her mid-wife barked orders for more candles to light the room. Strangely in her mind Lilianna wandered back to a time of girlhood and fig trees. When she was a girl she would fae-dance with her sisters,they would walk down the lanes of mulberry fields near here family Estate in Gathercreek and pick field flowers to make wreaths. That was a time untouched to her by the horrors of court life, when words went guarded and love was given not bought. They were a wondrous thing to behold there, a group of shimmering little black-haired girls dressed like faeries in the middle of the woods.

hey I took two of my pieces from different stories and merged them in this paragraph could you tell me if it sounds alright.

In her fourth hour of her labors pain exploded before her eyes like starburst . Her bare body, slick with sweat, shook with the strain of trying to keep conscious. This, Lilianna Freydil knew, would be the death of her. Hot fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her mid-wife barked orders for more candles to light the room. Strangely in her mind Lilianna wandered back to a time of girlhood and fig trees. When she was a girl she would fae-dance with her sisters,they would walk down the lanes of mulberry fields near here family Estate in Gathercreek and pick field flowers to make wreaths. That was a time untouched to her by the horrors of court life, when words went guarded and love was given not bought. They were a wondrous thing to behold there, a group of shimmering little black-haired girls dressed like faeries in the middle of the woods.

hey I took two of my pieces from different stories and merged them in this paragraph could you tell me if it sounds alright.

In her fourth hour of her labors pain exploded before her eyes like starburst . Her bare body, slick with sweat, shook with the strain of trying to keep conscious. This, Lilianna Freydil knew, would be the death of her. Hot fat tears rolled down her cheeks as her mid-wife barked orders for more candles to light the room. Strangely in her mind Lilianna wandered back to a time of girlhood and fig trees. When she was a girl she would fae-dance with her sisters,they would walk down the lanes of mulberry fields near here family Estate in Gathercreek and pick field flowers to make wreaths. That was a time untouched to her by the horrors of court life, when words went guarded and love was given not bought. They were a wondrous thing to behold there, a group of shimmering little black-haired girls dressed like faeries in the middle of the woods.

Hi I've been working with a new style of writing and Im not sure if it sounds alright could you leave comments about this exerpt

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The breeze whipped Cyrene Dangren hair across her into her face.

In a sudden gust of wind her chignon came undone, sending loose auburn tendrils cascading down her back. But it was not the air that pricked her skin to gooseflesh and sent shudders through her spine. Cyrene took her sister and held her close, rubbing her hands over her small shoulders in hopes of warming her. Little Frid was frightened and for good reason, strange men from Cantongen had swarmed their home and all quite suddenly Braegil castle was infested with men of the king and Palaceguards all in black and grey livery with blades at their sides.

“You will be strong, Frid.” Cyrene hugged her sister under her cloak“ Will not let them see you cry.”

Frid nodded but her eyes were already swollen and red rimmed.

As the morning sun rose fingers of mist and light glided up into the sky. Cyrene and her sister watched from their place, flanked by palaceguards, as more men from the royal livery pulled a group of boys out of the tower keep and into the sunlight. There were four in all, two boys from the country side, a squire and one prince of the realm. By noon they would all be dead. Traitors, according to the King. The boys tumbled as they walked, weighed down by chains, sweat and blood pasted their hair to their foreheads. Palaceguards guided them up to the parapets, in full view of everyone and a man in dark leather chaps set them to their knees.

“Bow before your Lord, Afal King of all Gil.” The man in black dropped to one knee as the King entered the gallery, he was surrounded on either side with beautifully dressed men and women and wore blood red vests and robes and the fur of an auburn fox, his was dark hair oiled and combed back. “My Lady,” The palaceguard nearest to her side whispered. “You must now bow before the King.”

Cyrene and her sister melted, in unison, to a curtsy as Afal marched past them, his glittering horde of nobles following in his wake. The boys knelt on a platform in the parapets, the sun made glistening outlines of their bodies as they waited for their fate. The man in black unsheathed a blade and leaned in against it begging forgiveness of the gods, as is tradition for executioners.

“Last words?” He asked.

“Yes,” The boy-prince’s voice cracked with sudden fear or anger, or both. “I die today because Afal the false King commands it, he is damned for his crimes against the ancient religion but he does not have to drag this Kingdom to hell with him. My brother is the rightful-,”

“Shut him up.” Someone in the crowd yelled. The executioner dealt him a swift blow in the ribs to keep him quiet. Cyrene felt her sister tremble as the executioner’s foot meet with their brother’s middle, something had cracked. One of the other boys vomited up bile.

“With your permission M’Lord.” Afal nodded his consent and the executioner lifted his blade.

“Do not look.” Sudden horror filled her as she spoke and Bodica burrowed her head into her waist as the sword fell. The second young prince of Gil was dead.

Hi I've been working with a new style of writing and Im not sure if it sounds alright could you leave comments about this exerpt

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The breeze whipped Cyrene Dangren hair across her into her face.

In a sudden gust of wind her chignon came undone, sending loose auburn tendrils cascading down her back. But it was not the air that pricked her skin to gooseflesh and sent shudders through her spine. Cyrene took her sister and held her close, rubbing her hands over her small shoulders in hopes of warming her. Little Frid was frightened and for good reason, strange men from Cantongen had swarmed their home and all quite suddenly Braegil castle was infested with men of the king and Palaceguards all in black and grey livery with blades at their sides.

“You will be strong, Frid.” Cyrene hugged her sister under her cloak“ Will not let them see you cry.”

Frid nodded but her eyes were already swollen and red rimmed.

As the morning sun rose fingers of mist and light glided up into the sky. Cyrene and her sister watched from their place, flanked by palaceguards, as more men from the royal livery pulled a group of boys out of the tower keep and into the sunlight. There were four in all, two boys from the country side, a squire and one prince of the realm. By noon they would all be dead. Traitors, according to the King. The boys tumbled as they walked, weighed down by chains, sweat and blood pasted their hair to their foreheads. Palaceguards guided them up to the parapets, in full view of everyone and a man in dark leather chaps set them to their knees.

“Bow before your Lord, Afal King of all Gil.” The man in black dropped to one knee as the King entered the gallery, he was surrounded on either side with beautifully dressed men and women and wore blood red vests and robes and the fur of an auburn fox, his was dark hair oiled and combed back. “My Lady,” The palaceguard nearest to her side whispered. “You must now bow before the King.”

Cyrene and her sister melted, in unison, to a curtsy as Afal marched past them, his glittering horde of nobles following in his wake. The boys knelt on a platform in the parapets, the sun made glistening outlines of their bodies as they waited for their fate. The man in black unsheathed a blade and leaned in against it begging forgiveness of the gods, as is tradition for executioners.

“Last words?” He asked.

“Yes,” The boy-prince’s voice cracked with sudden fear or anger, or both. “I die today because Afal the false King commands it, he is damned for his crimes against the ancient religion but he does not have to drag this Kingdom to hell with him. My brother is the rightful-,”

“Shut him up.” Someone in the crowd yelled. The executioner dealt him a swift blow in the ribs to keep him quiet. Cyrene felt her sister tremble as the executioner’s foot meet with their brother’s middle, something had cracked. One of the other boys vomited up bile.

“With your permission M’Lord.” Afal nodded his consent and the executioner lifted his blade.

“Do not look.” Sudden horror filled her as she spoke and Bodica burrowed her head into her waist as the sword fell. The second young prince of Gil was dead.

.

The breeze whipped Cyrene Dangren hair across her into her face.

In a sudden gust of wind her chignon came undone, sending loose auburn tendrils cascading down her back. But it was not the air that pricked her skin to gooseflesh and sent shudders through her spine. Cyrene took her sister and held her close, rubbing her hands over her small shoulders in hopes of warming her. Little Frid was frightened and for good reason, strange men from Cantongen had swarmed their home and all quite suddenly Braegil castle was infested with men of the king and Palaceguards all in black and grey livery with blades at their sides.

“You will be strong, Frid.” Cyrene hugged her sister under her cloak“ Will not let them see you cry.”

Frid nodded but her eyes were already swollen and red rimmed.

As the morning sun rose fingers of mist and light glided up into the sky. Cyrene and her sister watched from their place, flanked by palaceguards, as more men from the royal livery pulled a group of boys out of the tower keep and into the sunlight. There were four in all, two boys from the country side, a squire and one prince of the realm. By noon they would all be dead. Traitors, according to the King. The boys tumbled as they walked, weighed down by chains, sweat and blood pasted their hair to their foreheads. Palaceguards guided them up to the parapets, in full view of everyone and a man in dark leather chaps set them to their knees.

“Bow before your Lord, Afal King of all Gil.” The man in black dropped to one knee as the King entered the gallery, he was surrounded on either side with beautifully dressed men and women and wore blood red vests and robes and the fur of an auburn fox, his was dark hair oiled and combed back. “My Lady,” The palaceguard nearest to her side whispered. “You must now bow before the King.”

Cyrene and her sister melted, in unison, to a curtsy as Afal marched past them, his glittering horde of nobles following in his wake. The boys knelt on a platform in the parapets, the sun made glistening outlines of their bodies as they waited for their fate. The man in black unsheathed a blade and leaned in against it begging forgiveness of the gods, as is tradition for executioners.

“Last words?” He asked.

“Yes,” The boy-prince’s voice cracked with sudden fear or anger, or both. “I die today because Afal the false King commands it, he is damned for his crimes against the ancient religion but he does not have to drag this Kingdom to hell with him. My brother is the rightful-,”

“Shut him up.” Someone in the crowd yelled. The executioner dealt him a swift blow in the ribs to keep him quiet. Cyrene felt her sister tremble as the executioner’s foot meet with their brother’s middle, something had cracked. One of the other boys vomited up bile.

“With your permission M’Lord.” Afal nodded his consent and the executioner lifted his blade.

“Do not look.” Sudden horror filled her as she spoke and Bodica burrowed her head into her waist as the sword fell. The second young prince of Gil was dead.

I scrapped one of my stories and desided to try a different writing style with it could you tell me if this sounds alright. thank soo much

“By the immortal gods,” Vivienne allowed herself a smile “Have you ever seen anything as beautiful?” She broke the awe inspired silence that had fallen over the two as they rode back to Addon Estate. She had only ever seen mythical creatures in tapestries or heard of their beauty in lore, this sighting had taken her quite by surprise.

Aaron laughed quietly then answered, “As beautiful, yes. And then with some beauty to spare.”

The complement did it’s work, Vivienne felt herself turn red and redder still. She tried to smother the bubbling feeling that grew in her stomach that threatened to rise up and out of her mouth in the form of an onslaught of idiotic girlish giggles.

He was handsome, this Clayfort boy, who so graciously allowed her to live at Addon Estate after her mother had died of childbed fever.

He was her peer, nineteen, only three years her senior, green-eyed and light-haired and smart as a whip. He was decked in light brown riding gear, which was now of course stained with the blood of the creature he’d just slain.

The two were cousins, of a sort, the kind of cousin either once or twice removed. Five months back when Vivienne Agnese’s mother had succumb to sickness her father sent her to the Addon Estate, the rather large Holding belonging to Aaron and his mother Clarissa Clayfort. During her five months since her arrival to Addon she has been in a near state of constant flattery at the hands of Aaron Clayfort.

“And what manner of creature was this, to have enchanted you so?"

I scrapped one of my stories and desided to try a different writing style with it could you tell me if this sounds alright. thank soo much

“By the immortal gods,” Vivienne allowed herself a smile “Have you ever seen anything as beautiful?” She broke the awe inspired silence that had fallen over the two as they rode back to Addon Estate. She had only ever seen mythical creatures in tapestries or heard of their beauty in lore, this sighting had taken her quite by surprise.

Aaron laughed quietly then answered, “As beautiful, yes. And then with some beauty to spare.”

The complement did it’s work, Vivienne felt herself turn red and redder still. She tried to smother the bubbling feeling that grew in her stomach that threatened to rise up and out of her mouth in the form of an onslaught of idiotic girlish giggles.

He was handsome, this Clayfort boy, who so graciously allowed her to live at Addon Estate after her mother had died of childbed fever.

He was her peer, nineteen, only three years her senior, green-eyed and light-haired and smart as a whip. He was decked in light brown riding gear, which was now of course stained with the blood of the creature he’d just slain.

The two were cousins, of a sort, the kind of cousin either once or twice removed. Five months back when Vivienne Agnese’s mother had succumb to sickness her father sent her to the Addon Estate, the rather large Holding belonging to Aaron and his mother Clarissa Clayfort. During her five months since her arrival to Addon she has been in a near state of constant flattery at the hands of Aaron Clayfort.

“And what manner of creature was this, to have enchanted you so?”

Hey guys I'm trying out a new style of writing and was wondering how it sounds...and comments or suggestions

“Make your move.” Vivienne could see wisps of smoke curling of her breath and feel snowflakes soaking through the fabric of her shirt, melting like pinpricks against her skin. She could feel the doe near, hiding from them somewhere in the forest’s evanescence mist. “Come on,” She whispered raising her bow.

Without warning a dark figure sprinted out of the underbrush. The shape unloged itself from thickets of branches and skidded on frozen earth, running past her.

“Damned thing,” The young woman’s hunting partner, Aaron Clayfort, urged his stead after the beast. The thing dashed through the frozen forest, hooves stomping sodden earth. They young couple and a few other in their hunting party followed suit. Suddenly it went still, stopping at a bed of frozen water. That was it.

The Clayfort boy took his crossbow in hand and leveled it at the creature’s chest.

“You’ve downed her.” Vivienne said in awe. Red pooled near the creatures bottom left ribs, wetting it’s light brown fur and sending torrents of blood onto the icy ground. Strangled, agonizing noises escaped from the animals throat.

“For Odin’s sake end it. Please.” Vivienne pleaded as the creature’s body began to convulse. Aaron slowly dismounted his horse, in shock. “Gods above,” He whispered,taking in the full view of his prize. The body was that of a delicate chocolate brown pony but embeded on the creature’s head lay a horn of pearlescent ivory.

The beast made a pitiful,wet moaning sound as Aaron walked towards it.

I've gotten a variaty of different emotions and responces to this answer but as a Muslim or if a christian or jew , ext would like to anwer.... What do you think about a young Muslim woman being forced by her parents to wear a Hijab? And how to you think the Sunni v.s Shi'ite community veiw this choice [or lack there of].

p.s I am by no means incinuating all Muslim girls are forced by Islam to wear Hijab or any head coverings but in a specific case if you're friend was being forced would you praise or disapprove

This is not a question for Westerners.

I'm talking to any African's or people that have African Ties. The Lost boys, the Al-Shabaab, the Shi'ite.

In basically every African counrty there has been a mass genodice and persicution of Christians in recent years. I think with the growing of the Somalian Al-Shabaab or The youth, it's been getting worse. These attacks are not only focused on African Christians but on Sunni Muslims in the area as well. we all know the Shi'ite even treat their own harshly [child marriage, forced flahellation, ext, ext.] but right now I'm focused on helping the Christian's in North Africa. Does anyone have any idea of any names of programs out there that I can join to help to give relief to the Christian Arabic Community? I specifically want to see if we can help Women and Children in the North African Area?

Why is it that people [western people mostly] think that Islam is to blame for the uneducation, forced childmarriages, Taliban laws being inforced upon, human trafficking of and basically everything else wrong and unjust that happened to Afghani women in the past 30 years. Islam has never forced the veiling of or the scilencing of any of it's female followers yet westerners today blame all that is wrong on Islam. Really it's their own unwillingness to act and help educate young women in these counrties that have been strictly under Taliban rule that has sustained the unjustice for so long.

Most of my friends believe that every religous leaders are horrible hypocrites, lairs and theives. This however couldnt be farther from the truth. Yes there are some men and women who take the name of Christianity and use it for their own evil purposes. They steal, lie and hurt people. But those people are not Christians, if you use Gd as a reason to cheat someone out of something...chances are you are most certanly not a christian. Evil people do evil things and use religon and a scape goat all the time that doesn;t make religon evil...it makes it vaunerable and its up to the good people in this world to protect it.

Hi i was wondering if you could help me out by reading this short snip and telling me what I should add, it's like a secret ingredient I've been mulling over but cant put my finger on and suggestions would be welcome thanks!

Smoke and dust and fire billows behind us as I kick Nihmir urging him deeper into the forest. I can feel each stride as I pull at the horses mane, we're getting into thicker forest.The knowledge that the Ferginir armies are now ravaging my home as I save myself is a burning pit in my stomach. It’s the screaming that finally breaks me. The screaming of women and children. I nudge my foot against the horses’ stomach and he comes to a sudden stop.

I steady myself and my sister atop the beast as I murmur reassurances in it’s ear. When we’ve come to a complete stop and I start unlacing my cloak.

“Lurt. I need you to listen to my and swear to me you’ll do as I say, Aye?” My words mimic the determination resonating in my heart and I try to keep my voice level as I lay my tattered cloak over Lurts back. I attempt to squirm off of the horses back while balancing Lurt on it's back. “ I need you to ride, ride hard, until you get to Liflangrang. Do not stop riding until you reach, not for anything or anyone. Is that clear Lurt?”

My sister’s body seems to tremor as I dismount. My loose hood flutters around her frame.

“I can’t ride so far - not to Liflangrang- without you Vivienne. I nee-” I hush her protest. She is young and frightened but brave and I believe we both knew this was how things would play out.

“I promise you,” My fingers shake as I wrap them around Lurt’t tiny frozen hands and bring them to my lips. “ I will come for you.” Her blonde locks tremble around her face as she nods, gripping the horses mane even tighter.

“Vivienne.” My sister looks me in the eye, her blue irises shining. “Fight well.”

Hi i was wondering if you could help me out by reading this short snip and telling me what I should add, it's like a secret ingredient I've been mulling over but cant put my finger on and suggestions would be welcome thanks!

Smoke and dust and fire billows behind us as I kick Nihmir urging him deeper into the forest. The knowledge that the Ferginir armies are now ravaging my home as I save myself is a burning pit in my stomach. It’s the screaming that finally breaks me. The screaming of women and children. I nudge my foot against the horses’ stomach and he comes to a sudden stop.

I steady myself and my sister atop the beast as I murmur reassurances in it’s ear. When we’ve come to a complete stop and I start unlacing my cloak.

“Lurt. I need you to listen to my and swear to me you’ll do as I say, Aye?” My words mimic the determination resonating in my heart and I try to keep my voice level as I lay my cloak over Lurts back. “ I need you to ride, ride hard, until you get to Liflangrang. Do not stop riding until you reach, not for anything or anyone. Is that clear Lurt?”

My sister’s body seems to tremor as I dismount. My loose hood flutters around her frame.

“I can’t ride so far - not to Liflangrang- without you Vivienne. I nee-” I hush her protest. She is young and frightened but brave and I believe we both knew this was how things would play out.

“I promise you,” My fingers shake as I wrap them around Lurt’t tiny frozen hands and bring them to my lips. “ I will come for you.” Her blonde locks tremble around her face as she nods, gripping the horses mane even tighter.

“Vivienne.” My sister looks me in the eye, her blue irises shining. “Fight well.”

'Aahhh." My breaths are coming out sounding more like strangled screams. Hot tears roll down my face as a doctor tells one of my chamber maids to get more candles to light the room. I remember when I was five, I used to walk down to the mulberry feilds with Layla, my younger sister. We would sit in those fields for hours laughing and playing together while our cheeks swelled with the sweet,wild sun ripe fruit. The last time we ever went to that field was the day after my sixth birthday. Layla was singing, her voice even then as beautiful and true as any I'd ever heard, I was dancing. Not the type of complicated ceremonials I preform now, but a silly dance, waving my arms in the air above my head and spinning in circles. The dog came out of no where. But when it hit me, it hit with a astonishing force, pinning my tiny body to the ground . Before I really understood what was happening snarling teeth bit into me deep. I felt so violated, that was our secret place, our haven, surely nothing too auful could happen there but blood rushed from my arms, my face, my neck there was nothing I could do but lay there and watch my life drain out onto the meadow floor. Until this day I truely thought that was the worst pain I could ever feel. But this, bearing this child... is unimaginable.

" Nava? Nava, listen to me. You must stay awake." It is Conan's voice, I didn't even realize he was standing there. I didn't relize I was closing my eyes eith- Aah! Another push . Another cutting pain.

" We are almost there. " This time it is Lia who speaks, my midwife, I bearly have the strength to nod a yes.

I reach out for a hand, any hand really, but I am glad to find it is Conan who's fingers wrap around mine.

"Aaaah." My stomach is sick. I have attended birthings, even helped with in my brothers birth. But none like this. It has been too long and too difficult. My mind begins to scramble, perhaps there is something wrong? No, the gods forbid it. Not her, please not my child.

" She's almost here!" Lia trys to sound joyful but I hear the crack in her voice. Though their faces show no signs of anything but excitement Conan and Lia both stop trying to reassure me.

"AAAH!" One last heave. I feel a physical release and my head sinks into the sweat soaked pillow beneath it. I smile and look up to Conan, who just let go of my hand. His face is stricken. I open my moth to ask my friend why he looks so disturbed, when such a great feat has been accomplished. A new child for the house of Hatshept, I stop cold. Because only then do I hear it. Silence. Sickening ,cruel , mocking silence.

"No. No, please no. Not her. Please not my child." I try to sit up but a horrible mixture of pain, nausea and grief overwhelm me. I look at Lia with hatred.

" Let me hold her.” My words are choking me. I cannot say it outright, I even force my thought to dance around the thought.

“I said, LET. ME. HOLD HER!" I scream with a fury at Lia, who is cowering while she hands me the little bundle swathed in mossy green sheets, her hair is mine, black as night and her cheeks are rosey and full.

Her face was so perfect . So very pretty, she would have been a beauty my thumb caresses her forehead, she feels so cold. I want to die. But the most I can settle for now is laying curled up in a ball, weeping, with my child in my arms, her frail body near mine, still hot and tired from labor. Sobs rack my body and threaten to overwhelm me. Neither Henry nor Lia try to confort me, they know me better than that, but they do however stay for as long as they can. It is only when Conan whispers to Lia that she should get some sleep that they booth leave Lia lives not to far from the birthing rooms but it is dark out Conan walks her home.

I do not know how long I stayed on the tiny cot, whether or not I feel alseep all I know is that sun is now crawling into the sky and that I want, with all my heart and every once of my being want to die.

I posted this about a year ago. I wrote it because of a tragidy that happened then but the baby that inspired this story has recently gotten a happy, healthy big sister to carry on her memory, I really hope who ever reads this enjoys it. Idk I feel something pulling me in my heart to post this because I feel like it might touch someone who needs to be comforted. I used to want this to be heartwrenching but as I read it it gives me new hope too.

'Aahhh." My breaths are coming out sounding more like strangled screams. Hot tears roll down my face as a doctor tells one of my chamber maids to get more candles to light the room. I remember when I was five, I used to walk down to the mulberry feilds with Layla, my younger sister. We would sit in those fields for hours laughing and playing together while our cheeks swelled with the sweet,wild sun ripe fruit. The last time we ever went to that field was the day after my sixth birthday. Layla was singing, her voice even then as beautiful and true as any I'd ever heard, I was dancing. Not the type of complicated ceremonials I preform now, but a silly dance, waving my arms in the air above my head and spinning in circles. The dog came out of no where. But when it hit me, it hit with a astonishing force, pinning my tiny body to the ground . Before I really understood what was happening snarling teeth bit into me deep. I felt so violated, that was our secret place, our haven, surely nothing too auful could happen there but blood rushed from my arms, my face, my neck there was nothing I could do but lay there and watch my life drain out onto the meadow floor. Until this day I truely thought that was the worst pain I could ever feel. But this, bearing this child... is unimaginable.

" Nava? Nava, listen to me. You must stay awake." It is Conan's voice, I didn't even realize he was standing there. I didn't relize I was closing my eyes eith- Aah! Another push . Another cutting pain.

" We are almost there. " This time it is Lia who speaks, my midwife, I bearly have the strength to nod a yes.

I reach out for a hand, any hand really, but I am glad to find it is Conan who's fingers wrap around mine.

"Aaaah." My stomach is sick. I have attended birthings, even helped with in my brothers birth. But none like this. It has been too long and too difficult. My mind begins to scramble, perhaps there is something wrong? No, the gods forbid it. Not her, please not my child.

" She's almost here!" Lia trys to sound joyful but I hear the crack in her voice. Though their faces show no signs of anything but excitement Conan and Lia both stop trying to reassure me.

"AAAH!" One last heave. I feel a physical release and my head sinks into the sweat soaked pillow beneath it. I smile and look up to Conan, who just let go of my hand. His face is stricken. I open my moth to ask my friend why he looks so disturbed, when such a great feat has been accomplished. A new child for the house of Hatshept, I stop cold. Because only then do I hear it. Silence. Sickening ,cruel , mocking silence.

"No. No, please no. Not her. Please not my child." I try to sit up but a horrible mixture of pain, nausea and grief overwhelm me. I look at Lia with hatred.

" Let me hold her.” My words are choking me. I cannot say it outright, I even force my thought to dance around the thought.

“I said, LET. ME. HOLD HER!" I scream with a fury at Lia, who is cowering while she hands me the little bundle swathed in mossy green sheets, her hair is mine, black as night and her cheeks are rosey and full.

Her face was so perfect . So very pretty, she would have been a beauty my thumb caresses her forehead, she feels so cold. I want to die. But the most I can settle for now is laying curled up in a ball, weeping, with my child in my arms, her frail body near mine, still hot and tired from labor. Sobs rack my body and threaten to overwhelm me. Neither Henry nor Lia try to confort me, they know me better than that, but they do however stay for as long as they can. It is only when Conan whispers to Lia that she should get some sleep that they booth leave Lia lives not to far from the birthing rooms but it is dark out Conan walks her home.

I do not know how long I stayed on the tiny cot, whether or not I feel alseep all I know is that sun is now crawling into the sky and that I want, with all my heart and every once of my being want to die.

I posted this about a year ago. I wrote it because of a tragidy that happened then but the baby that inspired this story has recently gotten a happy, healthy big sister to carry on her memory, I really hope who ever reads this enjoys it. Thank you

thanks a ton

I keep on hearing people say...so what if Im a good person but I just dont believe in G-d? I go to hell...that's not fair?

Well it might not be but so what. Life is reality and so is the after life if you don't what to accept it why complain?

Was it fair that the perfect of Christ was slain for us. That was the payment, now all we have to do is believe it, if you dont then don't ...but please don't complain.

Nobody tries to convert anybody to be controling and annoying we do it because we give a care about what happens to you.

Hey guys I would really really love any feed back or critizies you could give me to make this story better. I'm sure it's not one of my greatest literary achevments but this is a first draft. Thanks a ton.

When I was a little girl, my gran told me a story, a story passed down from her gran and her gran and back and back.

When Shiva's earth was still young there lived a gypsy named Lalitia, she was meger and dark skinned but she shined with radiance and beauty and was greatly blessed by the gods who favoured her. She lived in the slums of a poor village and was spited for her race and beauty.

During his pilgrimage from his land,a boy called Aashiq Al-Sa'd Mahdi found Lalitia dancing on the street with some other gypsy girls of her age. Aashiq saw only Lalitia and in that moment he went Diwaane, mad with love. From then on Aashiq could not live a day without seeing Lalitia nor she without seeing him. When Lalitia's father finally decided to arrange a marriage for her to another man, a man more well off than Aashiq. When he heard of this both hhis heart and mind were shattered. He wandered the night and wailing for Lalitia like a mad-man. His family gave up hope of restoring his mind and the people of the village began to call him Majnoo, the crazy one.

Majnoo went off towards the desert and starved to death while Lalitia died of a broken heart.

When I was a girl this story would haunt my dreams and my daymares but it made me stronger. It gave me the sense to fear love and it's dangers.