Taylor

So for the heck of it I'm taking up site-modeling with a friend of mine. I need a good name but I'm having a bit of a hard time finding one.

My name is Taylor. Middle name Courtney. I'm willing to use either. Pleas help me! All ideas are welcomed. :)

Awwrighty, Well right across the road from my house, an Amish grocery is going out of business. We live on a country road right off of a main interstate for our area. Its a smaller building about 300 feet by 75....What can I do with this place? Its like a blessing in disguise, as it is right across the road, and my family has always wantred to start a small business.. We alreaady have a landscape business and a lumber shop in the area, which is what my father wanted to do, and he doesnt want to cramp others' businesses(he sells trees to both). What can I do? We don't want to run the risk of another grocery store there. All ideas are welcome. Just remember that we are a bit rural. Advertising ideas for such things would also be appreciated. Thanks in advance!

PS if you need any more info just ask.

This is the first time I've ever tried writing one...I would like you to be completely honest with me on it. I'm a big girl, I can take it. :)

P.S. I know Y!A has some problem with paragraphs...they got screwed up.

November 2011

Underneath Berlin, Germany

“Congratulations, men, on our first successful procedure,” congratulated American scientist Dr. Howard Blakely. His colleagues were gathered around his computer, which carefully monitored his experiment’s vitals. Separated by a plexiglass wall, Experiment number fifty seven was just waking up.

German scientist Dr. Hans Vorlich watched with almost giddy excitement. “She is doing better than any of her predecessors. We may have done it this time, Blakely.”

Experiment Fifty Seven sat up woozily, still shaking off the effects of the anesthetic. She looked around with a confused face. This was not her original hospital room. This one had a huge glass mirror on it, and three blank white walls. She scrunched the thin cream colored sheet on her cot. Getting up, she looked at herself in the mirror, seeming more and more confused. Instead of her eyes being warm, chocolate brown, they were sunflower yellow. Her hair was gone. It had been shaved to prepare for her scheduled surgery to remove her brain tumor. Now the stubble seemed orange instead of warm honey blonde.

Behind the fake mirror, one of the Asian doctors watched with no expression. “I wonder how long it will take her to figure out that we did more than just remove that tumor.”

Dr. Blakely pressed his lips together. “Watch and wait, my friend, watch and wait. Experiment Fifty Seven has come farther than any of our other subjects preceding her.”

In the white room, the experiment in question was still gazing at what she saw to be a mirror, trying to figure out why she looked different. She cracked her knuckles, her signal nervous trait, and noticed that her fingernails were longer, and more pointed. She felt her ears. They too seemed more pointed. She heard a faint click, and her ears swiveled to the noise. Things were starting to fall into place. Panicky, walked over to her bed. She looked at a random spot in the ceiling.

“Where am I?” she shouted at the empty walls. “What did you guys do!? Where’s my mom?”

A French doctor sighed and looked away from the panicky girl. “Here we go…” she said.

Experiment Fifty Seven began walking around the room, searching for a way out. Walking, jogging, now running around, desperately looking for an escape. “Please? Where’s my mom? Can I go home?” she called, over and over again. The French doctor looked strained.

“Don’t do this to her!” The French doctor begged Dr. Blakely, who was at the controls. “Do you her to self-destruct? Do you want her to end up like the other fifty six subjects before her?”

Dr. Blakely inhaled through his nose, watching the panicked girl run around at dizzying, panicked speed. “Fine, fine. We will tell her. She survived this long. Just hope this one doesn’t self destruct like the others after she knows.” He pulled a microphone near to his mouth.

“Sarah, this is Dr. Howard. How are you feeling, dear?” he said in a kind voice.

“What did you do to me? I’m different! Where’s mom? What’s wrong with my ears?” Sarah pounded these questions at Dr. Blakely rapid fire, her voice high and thin.

“Sarah, calm down. You will damage your stitches,” Dr. Blakely said in the same soothing voice, “ We did some extra things to you while you were under. Those things have made you a better human, Sarah. You have superior sight and hearing now. You won’t have to worry about that tumor, either. Its gone.”

“I want my mom.” She said, her voice watery and scared. “I didn’t want this weird stuff. Let me go home.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Sarah. You see, your mother thinks you died during surgery. Brain surgery is quite tricky, I’m afraid.”

“NO!” Sarah shouted, pounding on the wall she was nearest to. “Let me go with my mom!” Her eyes began to fill with tears.

Back in the control room, the French doctor frowned and gripped the back of a chair so hard her knuckles turned white. “Stop being cruel. This wasn’t what I was told was going to happen. Let her see her mother.”

Dr. Blakely smiled cruelly. “Sorry, Giana, but this is the way it has to be. We can’t send her out in public like that. It wouldn’t be good for us.”

The French woman glared angrily at the American scientist, speechless with rage. “You used me!” was all she could think of to say. “You used me to alter a little girl and tell her mother that we failed as surgeons!”

Blakely waved her off. “This is for the good of man, Giana. Remember that.”

The French doctor pointed a furious finger at the little girl crying in the white room. “That is nothing towards the good of man.” She hissed. “That is the cruel treatment of a young girl with too much on her plate already!”

Dr. Blakely ignored her and presses a button on the keyboard of his computer. A little red