?

http://www.wattpad.com/story/1468923-the-truth-can...

If you have an account would you mind checking it out?

The first chapter is on Wattpad and I really could use some opinions :D

http://www.wattpad.com/story/1333750-xavier-and-th...

If you leave a comment or vote, or even fan, I will do the same in return!

Hey, I'm looking to advertise my story a little bit more so if you're a wattpad user would you be able to check out my story. Even if you're not, if you want something to read?

Thanks!

http://www.wattpad.com/story/1273887-kings-%26-que...

I could really do with some feedback too?

It's on wattpad so i'm sorry if you immediately want to leave the page.

http://www.wattpad.com/3996394-anxiety-and-halluci...

any comments or advice would be appreciated as it's my first story on wattpad.Thank you :D

http://www.wattpad.com/story/1171089-anxiety-and-h...

Sorry it's on Wattpad but that's where it is :')

To some people Bipolar Disorder is just a phrase or a condition, but to Ramona Evertson, Bipolar Disorder is her life. She has spent the past four years in and out of Sunnyvale psychiatric hospital after a suicide attempt when she was thirteen years old. Now seventeen years old, Ramona believes she is past her worst episodes and thinks she is ready to leave, but some new relationships within the hospital send her on a spiral that could lead her back where she began.

If any Wattpad users read it, comments on the site would be appreciated, if not, on here is awesome too :D

Also, if you're a Wattpad user and you want me to check out your story, leave a comment on my profile :)

Thanks in advance!

http://www.wattpad.com/story/1171089-anxiety-and-h...

Any advice, comments, votes? would be much appreciated :D

http://www.wattpad.com/3659107-changers/intro

Sorry it's on wattpad :) any comments or opinions would be great, thanks!

http://www.wattpad.com/3478949-sounds-like-summer

Sorry it's on wattpad, but if you could give me your opinion.. On here, or on wattpad if you are a user :D

Thanks!!

http://www.wattpad.com/3428240-the-search-prologue

Any feedback would be great, thank you :D

http://www.wattpad.com/3421095-left-behind-chapter...

http://www.wattpad.com/2475661-left-behind?p=1

Okay, I'm starting a book and have managed to get past the brick wall that prevents me every time I sit down and write. What do you think?

It is not those who are honest who succeed in life, it is those who lie every single day of their lives, but somehow manage to find a way to get away with it. Those people are the most successful people around you and somehow society is okay with that. We live every day shaped by these people who lie and never ask how we got to be so miserable. The reason we never ask these questions is because we are afraid of the answers. Afraid that knowing the truth will make us somehow even more miserable.

Or, at least this is what I’m told.

We grow up with these fables and tales of how to live our lives. Little Red Riding Hood taught us not to wonder in the woods, Goldilocks taught us to respect other people’s property and privacy and The Boy Who Cried Wolf taught us not to lie. From day one our brains are crammed full of these stories with important morals, but on day one thousand five hundred when you tell your first meaningless white lie these morals mean nothing, and these tales become childish stories.

Thanks!

Idk, I keep seeing questions like this and like my families names, so I was wondering whether you do too.

Peyton Jayne - we call her PJ xD (18)

Zachary James (17)

Addison-Rae (12)

Isabelle Pamela Rose (8)

For me, autumn was by far my favourite time of year. Everything seemed to happen slowly; the reddening of the leaves, the birds flying south and the earlier nights. It also meant that Christmas was close, the day of presents, love and family, and not forgetting the birth of Jesus Christ. But our family weren’t strictly religious. We didn’t go to church but that didn’t mean we didn’t believe. I thanked God ever birthday and every Christmas in the privacy of my own bedroom, and I liked to think that if I ever needed Him, God would help me in a crisis.

It was nearing November. The sky was clear and dark, and as I looked up I caught a glimpse of God at work; a shooting star. I know it’s naïve of me to do so, but I made a wish, a wish that I hoped would come true. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, attempting to capture the last of my body heat for just a moment longer before I started shivering. My breaths were already coming out in little puffs, hanging in front of me for a second before disappearing into thin air. In the distance a firework sounded, loud and deafening yet the bright colours flashing in the sky were nowhere to be seen. I closed my eyes and breathed in the cold evening air. A strange silence fell upon me and I found myself feeling tired, despite the time being only eight fifteen.

I stood from the chair, my legs feeling stiff from the cold. As I opened the door a wave of heat crashed over me. My mum called me from the study and as I made my way down the hallway I could see the glow of a candle through the half open door.

“Hey, Lil, you couldn’t do me a favour could you?”

“Depends on what it is, I’ve got things to do.”

“You wouldn’t be able to take the twins over to Mark’s, would you? I’ve got to ring my David and I said I’d drop them off at half eight.”

I rolled my eyes. Yesterday I was the chef, and now I’m the chauffeur.

“They’re in the playroom,” she said as she picked up the phone and began dialling a number. After a few seconds she began speaking, “Dave? Hi, it’s Rach. I’ve looked over the listings and there’s a few we would set up for viewings…”

I made my way up the stairs; on the third I could hear a childish conversation coming from the other side of the house. I walked the stretch of landing with my head hanging back. As I reached the room, my little sisters were standing over the dollhouse arguing about the position of the bed in the living room.

Ramona and Aubrey were the product of my mum’s second marriage to Mark. They were married a little over three years, the twins born somewhere within the second. They were considered perfect babies and luckily for me they slept most of the time. Only when they started to develop personalities and egos did they become an issue. They were demanding, bossy and competitive, as all twins are expected. But with it just being me and my mum for the most part, they were exhausting. I usually got dumped with Ramona and my mum handled Aubrey, but now they were two-years-old they pretty much entertained themselves.

“Love. People write stories about two people searching for this thing, this feeling. And typically, they find what they’ve been looking for in a partner that is so totally perfect in every shape, size and form. Then the story will end with the characters being happy, satisfied. As if their life is now complete. But what happens to the characters, those people when you’ve read the last page of the book. Does their life continue being the picture perfect romance they’ve always dreamed of? Do they get married, have children and live happily ever after? There’s no way of knowing. So, the next time you pick up a book that you know is a love story, consider this: is any love story different? Sure there’s those that end in tragedy, the word ‘Titanic’ springs to mind, but I’m yet to discover the one book that ends with the characters being distraught, lost, and unsure of themselves. Call me morbid, or whatever you want, but life isn’t picture perfect. Life has its ups and downs and at the end of the day, not everybody is going to find the thing, the feeling they’ve been looking for. So I ask you this: what is love, really?”

The class remained silent except for Jenna who sarcastically sat clapping like a happy seal on the back row. I bowed and turned towards Mr. Symons.

“Well that was…interesting, that’s for sure. It was a nice presentation on the word love. Thank you, Erin.”

“You’re welcome.” I meandered through the tables and took a seat next to Jenna. “I thought I’d go all out this week. You know, do something ‘outside-the-box’.”

“It was definitely something.”

“Right guys, next lesson I want the final drafts of your Enduring Love essays in. I want some top grade work, okay? Don’t let me down.” Then right on cue the bell rang for home time; my favourite time of the day.

“Hey, Jen, are you still coming to mine?”

“Of course, it’s pizza Friday at the Valentine Household.”

We tugged our bags over our shoulders and headed for the door.

“Miss Valentine, can I have a quick word with you,” Mr. Symons said from across the room.

“Yeah,” I said. “I won’t be a minute Jen. What’s up sir?”

“It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to re-write your essay. You scored top marks on the first draft. Well done.”

“Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that,” he said. “Have a good weekend.” He turned back to his desk and sat down on the throne of a chair. He took out his phone from his pocket and switched it on whilst flicking through the rest of the papers he had to mark.

“Thanks Sir! You too.” I was already half way out of the door, but he nodded a response as I turned the corner.

Mr. Symons was a young for a teacher, maybe twenty-five years old, but he was by far the best English teacher I’d ever had. When he smiled there was a sparkle in his blue eyes, and we all knew that he was having the time of his life teaching. He was one of the few teachers that actually enjoyed teaching a class of hormonal teenagers every single day.

“It’s going to be a celebratory pizza Friday at the Valentine Household tonight,” I said as I met Jenna in the corridor. “Guess which one of your friends is officially a geek?”

“Well, it’s definitely not Carrie, her name starts with the letter ‘c’ for a reason and it’s not…” she mumbled to herself quietly for a few moments before shooting a sideways glance at me. “Is it you?”

“Yes!” I ignored her sarcasm for the first time and focussed on the fact that for the first time ever I was actually enjoying English. “I love English now! Now, back to mine.”

I've just started writing a book.. I need some opinions on my first paragraph. The story is of a 16 year old girl named Erin Phoenix who's older sister died a year ago on Halloween. Her parents are at a party in the first chapter, leaving Erin alone with her thoughts.. It's the first draft, but let me know what you think. Thank you!

Chapter One

It was Halloween; the night of ghosts, ghouls and goblins. Or so they say. In the near distance I could hear the church clock’s bell ring as the big and little hand hit twelve. Other than that the room was quiet. The curtains were half shut, half letting in the orange glow of the street lamp at the end of the driveway. I closed my eyes and clasped my hands together on my knees. A sat paralyzed for a minute, my breathing the only sign that I was alive. The air was cold, so cold that I could see my own breath in front of me, coming out in little puffs. I threw my hand through the small cloud of air as if to waft away a smell and found myself standing up. Midnight was, to me, the hour of ghosts. It was as much of morning as it was of night, and I figured if I was confused, then the dead would be too. The floorboards creaked slightly as I stepped out of the lounge towards the front door. An echo announced as I turned the lock, moving through the house with the elegance and grace of a spirit.

“Love. People write stories about two people searching for this thing, this feeling. And typically, they find what they’ve been looking for in a partner that is so totally perfect in every shape, size and form. Then the story will end with the characters being happy, satisfied. As if their life is now complete. But what happens to the characters, those people when you’ve read the last page of the book. Does their life continue being the picture perfect romance they’ve always dreamed of? Do they get married, have children and live happily ever after? There’s no way of knowing. So, the next time you pick up a book that you know is a love story, consider this: is any love story different? Sure there’s those that end in tragedy, the word ‘Titanic’ springs to mind, but I’m yet to discover the one book that ends with the characters being distraught, lost, and unsure of themselves. Call me morbid, or whatever you want, but life isn’t picture perfect. Life has its ups and downs and at the end of the day, not everybody is going to find the thing, the feeling they’ve been looking for. So I ask you this: what is love, really?”

The class remained silent except for Jenna who sarcastically sat clapping like a happy seal on the back row. I bowed and turned towards Mr. Symons.

“Well that was…interesting, that’s for sure. It was a nice presentation on the word love. Thank you, Erin.”

“You’re welcome.” I meandered through the tables and took a seat next to Jenna. “I thought I’d go all out this week. Do something ‘outside-the-box’.”

“It was definitely something.”

“Right guys, next lesson I want the final drafts of your Lord of the Flies essays in. I want some top grade work, okay? Don’t let me down.” Then right on cue the bell rang for home time; my favourite time of the day.

“Hey, Jen, are you still coming to mine?”

“Of course, it’s pizza Friday at the Valentine Household.”

We tugged our bags over our shoulders and headed for the door.

“Miss Valentine, can I have a quick word with you,” Mr. Symons said from across the room.

“Yeah,” I said. “I won’t be a minute Jen. What’s up sir?”

“It’s nothing bad. I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to re-write your essay. You scored top marks on the first draft. Well done.”

“Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that,” he said. “Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks Sir!”

Mr. Symons was a young for a teacher, maybe twenty-five years old, but he was by far the best English teacher I’d ever had. When he smiled there was a sparkle in his blue eyes, and we all knew that he was having the time of his life teaching. He was one of the few teachers that actually enjoyed teaching a class of hormonal teenagers every single day.

“It’s gonna be a celebratory pizza Friday at the Valentine Household tonight,” I said as I met Jenna in the corridor. “Guess which one of your friends is officially a geek?”

“Well, it’s definitely not Carrie, her name starts with the letter ‘c’ for a reason and it’s not,” she mumbled to herself quietly for a few moments before shooting a sideways glance at me. “Is it you?”

“Yes!” I ignored her sarcasm for the first time and focussed on the fact that for the first time ever I was actually enjoying English. “I love English now!”

“You just love Mr. Symons for giving you the grade.”

“It’s a bit of both, I guess. He is kinda hot.”

The room was small and dingy, the window on the far wall was covered with fingerprints and distorting the light that flooded through it. I took a seat on the plastic chair and waited for the school receptionist to call my name. She was preoccupied at the desk in the corner, as she always was, with her mobile buzzing every other minute. The background music was playing quietly, a Take That song I recognised from the collection of CDs my mum keeps in the car. They always tried to keep the waiting room as ‘friendly’ as they could.

“Erin,” the woman said across the room, “you can go in now.”

I tugged my bag over my shoulder and stepped into Mr. Symons’ office. The room wasn’t much bigger than the waiting room but the walls were covered with white paint and on the wall behind his desk was what was considered a ‘motivational poster’. He indicated for me to sit down on the uncomfortable plastic chair opposite his desk, and I did so.

“I’ve been on the phone to your mother for quite some time,” he said, his voice flat, “and between the two of us we just can’t seem to find the reason for your deteriorating grades.” He stopped for a second to look out of his window. I followed his gaze and saw some younger children fighting in the playground. He was about to step towards the window but another teacher raced towards them. “Can you help enlighten us?”

Usually, Mr. Symons was a pretty laidback guy; he was my English teacher as well as the Head so I usually saw him in a good mood, but today, today was different.

“I don’t know what’s happened but I’ll try harder from now on,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at home.”

I should’ve also mentioned that Mr. Symons was in fact my step-dad. He and my mum married a little over three years ago. They met at a parent-teacher conference and dated for a year before tying the knot. I’m not going to lie, it was one of the most embarrassing and awkward situation to be in, but I’ve learnt to deal with it. But most importantly, my mum’s happy.

Okay, don't cry because it's too long. Don't read it if you can't be bothered...

I sat alone in the dark with a candle flickering beside me, casting shadows against the walls and ceiling. Some people find it haunting, how the shadows distort the object they belong to, but I find it truthful. After all, nothing is ever what it truly seems.

Outside the window the night sky flashed as a surge of electricity raced to the ground. The silence afterwards was uncomfortable – the whole town was waiting in suspense for the rumble of thunder to introduce the storm that was on its way. I pushed myself to sit up straight, stretching my muscles as I did so. I stared at the window, not at the view of street lights extending into the distance, but at the glass. Not one but two drops of rain hit and rolled down the pane with a delicate movement, a harsh crash of thunder sounded seconds later.

A simple breath and I was enclosed by the darkness of the night. The flame was gone, but with the subtle glow of the moon outside I was able to see a thin stream of white smoke twist and turn from the burnt wick.

What the darkness couldn’t hide, though, was my fear. It was always going to be shining bright wherever I went. It was uncontrollable, a punishment. It was haunting me. A ghost of the past mistakes I had made and my denial, my complete and utter detachment from the lives I had turned upside down. I couldn’t find a way to say I’m sorry. It didn’t matter. The word didn’t seem big enough to capture the absolute devastation and gut-wrenching pain I felt whenever I thought about what I had done. I couldn’t sleep, not now. I felt suffocated, trapped in the middle of the four walls that, ultimately, was my bedroom, my safe haven. I had to escape for just a little while, clear my head of the junk that orbited every living moment. I crept down the stairs; each step brought a clear cut creak of the floorboard.

The wind was dominating, replacing my thoughts with a howling echo. I struggled to keep my balance as the force of the storm pulled and pushed against my body. I was struck back by a blinding flash of light - a deafening boom of thunder sounded seconds later. The rain now fell like splintering sheets of ice, each bead stinging my skin more than the last. Bringing a drenched sleeve to my face I wiped away the hair that was plastered to my forehead. The cold rainwater had begun to find its way through the several layers of clothing I had on. I shivered. I could feel her skin rise with a sudden flush of goose bumps. Continuing down the saturated path I glanced straight in front at the car lights flashing past her. I was jealous, jealous of the people in the car. They were dry and warm whereas I could no longer feel my fingers and toes. My ripped Converses held small puddles of water in the soles, and my socks were drenched. It was my own fault, really. I had chosen to leave the house in the rain.

Any advice or opinions would be much appreciated. Thank you :D

I sat alone in the dark with a candle flickering beside me, casting shadows against the walls and ceiling. Some people find it haunting, how the shadows distort the object they belong to, but I find it truthful. After all, nothing is ever what it truly seems.

Outside the window the night sky flashed as a surge of electricity raced to the ground. The silence afterwards was uncomfortable – the whole town was waiting in suspense for the rumble of thunder to introduce the storm that was on its way.