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Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
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Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Quill Sat Oct 27, 2012 7:10 am
(Another story that I am currently working on. Ignore any grammar/spelling problems.)
My heart aches. No… it doesn’t ache. It longs, and terribly. I heave a deep sigh and try to calm myself down enough to smear the tears from my face. It only works somewhat, but at least I can swipe the hanging teardrops from my chin and continue crying again. I cry some more, for about ten minutes, and then I find myself screaming and cursing at the world around me. At the boat, the water, the food I stole, Kenny, the bunch of dollar bills stuffed and wrinkled up in the pockets of my jeans, my dad, for being nowhere to be found, and most of all, myself. I yell until my throat barely begins to hurt, and I’m so mad at myself for not bringing anything to write in, or anyone to talk to. I have nothing and no one, and it’s all entirely my fault. I scream and cry and destroy my vocal cords for heaven knows how long, and pace back and forth across the deck until I can no longer feel my toes at all, in any way, shape, or form. I breathe heavily as I try to calm myself down, but then I start thinking again of how stupid I am for putting myself in this ugly, lonely situation, and it begins again, tears and all. At some point, it finally gets so bad that I’m screaming, crying, AND hyperventilating.
I stop everything I’m doing that’s loud and echoing when I hear a weird noise; weirder than my hyperventilating. It’s kind of like a sort of exhausted snorting mixed with hyperventilation. It’s just about the scariest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. The noise stops, then starts again a few minutes later, and I freeze, trying to listen. The second time I hear the noise, I glance over the edge of the boat very slowly, in case it’s something that might be hungry or wants to attack me. And what I see, I can’t even begin to explain and try to make sense of it at the same time.
They’re right in front of my eyes, and I honestly can’t believe it. I shut my eyes tightly for a few minutes and rub them furiously. But when I open my eyes again and they aren’t gone, I have to believe that what I’m seeing is absolutely one hundred percent real and alive. A few feet ahead of me, paddling exasperatedly in the deep, unending sea water, are two living, breathing horses.
________________________________
The animals are barely holding their heads above the water, and the sound I’ve been hearing is their shallow breathing. It’s loud and raspy, almost like a bear snoring. I stand there and try to process what I see for a minute and then realize that they’re about to drown. So I suddenly jump and run down to the interior and grab whatever I can that might be able to pull them closer to the boat. The first thing I find that might be useful, I snatch up from the dresser that’s sitting in one of the two interior rooms. It’s a long cable, one of the ones that used primarily for rock climbing. I tie a loop into it, then noose it so I’ll be able to wrap it around one of the horses’ necks or something. I’m not exactly an equine expert, but I don’t know what else to do.
As soon as I’m sure the noose will be secure enough to not come untied, I race back upstairs to the rail so fast, and with so much force, I cause the boat to rock a little bit. I clamp my hands on the rail when the boat rocks (because I’m terrified of it tipping). When it finally stops, I hold the cable in my hands like it’s rope, and I prepare myself to whirl it. I heave the deepest sigh I can, close my eyes for a second or two, then twirl the cable in the air and throw it.
It misses both horses by not even a foot. Just my luck. I reel the cable back in, shake it to remove as much of the water as I can (I don’t want it to hurt the horses when I throw it again), and put my hands back in the roping position. The same routine takes place; sighing, closing my eyes, throw. Miss. Sigh, eyes shut, throw. Miss. Sigh, eyes shut… throw, miss.
Sigh. By about the tenth time I’ve missed, I’m about to give up. Both horses are trembling and nickering and whinnying hysterically, and I can tell I’ve spooked them a lot, and I feel awful. I start groaning at how frustrated I am at myself and look down once again at the cable in my hands, then back out at the horses. I decide to try one more time to save them.
I keep my eyes on the horses as I inhale a deep breath of the salty air. When I exhale, all the tension leaves my muscles. I can see that one of the two exhausted animals is holding the same stare on me as I am on it. I hold the cable like a rope once more, brace myself, and twirl it. I continue to hold my gaze on the two horses, and then I throw the cable for what I hope is the last time. I close my eyes tightly when I see the makeshift lasso about to hit the water. When I open my eyes again, a huge relief washes over me. The cable finally landed around one horse’s neck.
Without hesitation, I tug gently at the cable until it tightens enough around my victim’s neck to where I can pull him close to the boat. As soon as he notices that he’s caught, he doesn’t even try to argue with the noose, and he swims at the same time I pull. When I’ve got him right next to the boat, I’m amazed at how much bigger he is than he looked; these are not small horses.
His breathing is much louder now, too. It’s like a lawnmower that’s right outside a bedroom window mixed with a million thunder strikes. I lead the horse around to the other side, where there’s no rail, and I begin trying to pull him up onto the boat. He revolts and tries to tug the cable from my hand by jerking his head back in resistance. I coo and coax him and try to be as calm as possible so he doesn’t sense my urgency. It isn’t easy, let me tell you. I’ve got one that I’m trying to get to safety, and then another that’s five feet away without anything to lean on now.
Finally, the horse gives up on resisting my help and I bring him in toward the boat. The floor I’m standing on isn’t that high up from the surface of the water, so you’d think it’d be easy to get him up here. It isn’t.
I manage to get the horse to place his forelegs on the deck. But his hind legs really aren’t strong enough at the moment. I don’t want him to hurt himself, so I have no other option but to jump in the water and help him. The cable is long enough that I can go around the little outside ‘block’ of the interior and secure the wire to the rail. So that’s what I do, and after I know it’s tight enough, I find a spot far enough away from the horse and leap into the water.
I thought it would be cold. It’s a lot colder than that. My teeth are chattering, but I quickly swim around to the horse without stopping. When he sees me, he doesn’t even wince. His breathing is still incredibly loud, but I do my best to ignore it, because I know how much pain he’s in. He has rein rope on him, which I couldn’t see from far away. I wrap my fingers around the reins and pull them forward, toward the boat. The horse paddles forward, so I swim around behind, while keeping one hand on his back the whole time in hopes that I don’t spook him when I try to lift his hind legs. He seems fine, or as fine as a horse could be in this type of situation. After patting his thigh a few times, I open my mouth, inhale as much air as I possibly can, and dive under.
It’s hard to see when everything underwater is black and white or dirt. My eyes, I have to keep narrowed so the salt and dirt don’t burn or scratch them. But I have to keep my eyes wide enough so that I can see the horse.
I feel around on the horse’s leg until my hand finds one of his hooves. It isn’t easy, because he’s kicking his legs so he doesn’t drown, and then there’s the fact that his hooves are enormous. It takes a few minutes before I can firmly hold his leg, and then I intertwine my fingers and push them under his hoof. The air in my lungs is starting to leave, and I’m so close to the water’s surface, it hurts. Gravity is regaining its hold on me and the horse I’m trying to rescue. When I can no longer breathe, a cold breeze finally hits my hand, and then there’s no longer a hoof in it. I blink, starting to feel a slight bit of relief. But then something awful happens.
The horse slips, and it’s a bad slip. His hind legs come down on my shoulder, and it hurts so bad, I want to scream. I immediately raise my head above the water and gasp for breath, my chest pounding badly from the lack of air. Everything around me is blurry, but I try to shake the feeling, and I go back under. This time I don’t even wait until the horse stops kicking for a minute, and my fingers on my right hand get cracked a little bit by the hitting pressure a hoof. I ignore the sound and quickly intertwine my fingers again, place my hands under his hoof, and swim upwards as hard as I can.
My fingers aren’t that strong, but regardless, I don’t give up on saving this dang horse, no matter how heavy he is. This time, my hand breaks the surface of the water, and I hold on to his foot for dear life until at least my neck is above water. After blinking back saltwater for a few seconds, I grab all the strength I have and shove the horse up on the boat. His right hind leg is up on the edge, while his left is in midair. As quickly as I can, I jump up to the edge of the boat and struggle to pull myself up. When I’m all the way up, I stand and pull the rope and cable, and finally, all four of the stallion’s legs are firmly on the deck.
After pulling the horse far enough from the edge of the boat, I take a few minutes to catch my breath and gets every shiver I have out of me. I don’t even take the time to mess around before I’m already tying the rope that this horse has to the rail and unlooping and raising the cable from his neck. When I get the cable from around his neck, I’m already working it back to a lasso. I glance out over the water at the other horse. It looks worse than the stallion I have on the boat with me, so I’m trying to work fast on the cable. I finally get it back to how it was, and I prepare to throw when the pain in my fingers starts to sink in more. I throw the cable anyways, and miss the stranded animal by a yard.
I reel in and throw the rope and miss two more times before I realize that I don’t have the strength to do this again. Tears are flooding and streaming from my eyes by now, and I shake my head angrily at myself. Over my shoulder, I glance at the stallion. His legs are shaking, and it’s horrifying. I keep thinking he’s going to collapse, and he almost does twice, but catches himself both times. Then I glance out, back at the other horse. It’s trying to swim toward the boat, to its companion, but it doesn’t have any more the amount of strength to swim that I do to throw the cable.
It takes me a few minutes to decide what I should do. Leaving the horse stranded in the water is not an option. If I rescued one, I rescue both. They’re obviously very close to each other, and the one that’s feet away is anxious to get back to its friend. After staring blankly into space, and directly toward the victimized animal in the water, I’ve made my decision. After I wrap the cable up and throw it in, I jump back in the water.
It’s just as cold now as it was a few minutes ago, but I start swimming out to sea as soon as I hit the water. The horse gets closer with every kick I force my legs into, and with every stroke of my arms. When the size of the horse starts to become clearer, I unravel the cable until it’s just the noose part and a long line. I finally reach the equine, and it’s so exhausted that it doesn’t even fight when I toss the loop over its neck.
I tighten the cable little by little, then place my hand between it and the horse’s neck. The horse doesn’t even care until I start trying to tug the noose, and then it starts to jerk its head back. I rub my free hand on the animal’s cheek, then its ear. I don’t even wait till the thing’s calm before I start tugging and pulling and paddling back to the boat. It takes a few minutes before the horse finally budges, but it does. And we’re both here in the water, shivering and swimming and dragging, hauling, even, our bodies back to the boat.
When we’re finally in reach of the boat, I don’t even have time to feel relief, because now there’s something else to worry about that I didn’t even think of. And they have about three thousand teeth each.
Stupid sharks! I finally almost get the second of the two horses to the boat, and then these guys show up! It’s so frightening and frustrating at the same time. I don’t even dare look down, because if I see a fin, I will scream. I try to release my fear, because I can see that the other being at the end of this ‘rope’ is catching my fear like a cold. Every fiber of me is shivering, but I throw the free end of the wire over the rail and loop it and grab one of the poles and pull my butt out of the water.
These horses are pure troopers, because I’ve never known an animal alive that could stand this kind of circumstance. I glance down at my final rescue attempt and tug it over to the other side of the boat; the same spot I pulled the other horse up. This horse has no rope reins, which I automatically know is going to make this a lot more difficult. I pull the horse until its forelegs are firmly (or at least, sort of) up on the deck, run the cable over to the other side and secure it to the rail as tightly as possible, make sure the stallion is alright (which he is), don’t even take a moment to try to breathe, and jump in the water again.
I refuse to look at anything around me, other than the horse and the boat. When I reach the horse again, it’s breathing worse than it was on the way back to the boat. Its nostrils are majorly flared, and its eyes are far more bloodshot than the other’s. I can tell that, besides being utterly near dead from exhaustion, the horse is also terrified. Because now the sharks are circling. I feel a dorsal fin swipe my ankle and I shiver and gag a little bit, but dive under with no hesitation whatsoever. This part… I can say I hate it, and it’s so much worse the second time around. But at the same time, it isn’t as bad.
Since this horse is way more tuckered out than the other, it isn’t kicking its legs as hard, so it’s easy to find one of its hooves. As soon as I do, I intertwine my fingers, hope to God it’s for the last time, and start to lift the equine’s leg out of the water.
Everything around me is so cold, I can’t even feel how much pressure I’m putting on my arms and spine. My hands are numb, so it sort of hurts to be lifting a two-ton horse with my hands. But I don’t waste any of my effort, and it finally pulls off when the horse has all four hooves on the deck. When I see this, I don’t even swim around to the rail side; I jump up on the deck and pull myself up as best I can, then snatch the cable and yank without meaning to. This horse is a mare. She doesn’t even put up a fight when I yank the noose, and follows close behind. I see her ears perk up a little when she spots the stallion, and I quickly release her from the cable’s hold.
My heart aches. No… it doesn’t ache. It longs, and terribly. I heave a deep sigh and try to calm myself down enough to smear the tears from my face. It only works somewhat, but at least I can swipe the hanging teardrops from my chin and continue crying again. I cry some more, for about ten minutes, and then I find myself screaming and cursing at the world around me. At the boat, the water, the food I stole, Kenny, the bunch of dollar bills stuffed and wrinkled up in the pockets of my jeans, my dad, for being nowhere to be found, and most of all, myself. I yell until my throat barely begins to hurt, and I’m so mad at myself for not bringing anything to write in, or anyone to talk to. I have nothing and no one, and it’s all entirely my fault. I scream and cry and destroy my vocal cords for heaven knows how long, and pace back and forth across the deck until I can no longer feel my toes at all, in any way, shape, or form. I breathe heavily as I try to calm myself down, but then I start thinking again of how stupid I am for putting myself in this ugly, lonely situation, and it begins again, tears and all. At some point, it finally gets so bad that I’m screaming, crying, AND hyperventilating.
I stop everything I’m doing that’s loud and echoing when I hear a weird noise; weirder than my hyperventilating. It’s kind of like a sort of exhausted snorting mixed with hyperventilation. It’s just about the scariest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. The noise stops, then starts again a few minutes later, and I freeze, trying to listen. The second time I hear the noise, I glance over the edge of the boat very slowly, in case it’s something that might be hungry or wants to attack me. And what I see, I can’t even begin to explain and try to make sense of it at the same time.
They’re right in front of my eyes, and I honestly can’t believe it. I shut my eyes tightly for a few minutes and rub them furiously. But when I open my eyes again and they aren’t gone, I have to believe that what I’m seeing is absolutely one hundred percent real and alive. A few feet ahead of me, paddling exasperatedly in the deep, unending sea water, are two living, breathing horses.
________________________________
The animals are barely holding their heads above the water, and the sound I’ve been hearing is their shallow breathing. It’s loud and raspy, almost like a bear snoring. I stand there and try to process what I see for a minute and then realize that they’re about to drown. So I suddenly jump and run down to the interior and grab whatever I can that might be able to pull them closer to the boat. The first thing I find that might be useful, I snatch up from the dresser that’s sitting in one of the two interior rooms. It’s a long cable, one of the ones that used primarily for rock climbing. I tie a loop into it, then noose it so I’ll be able to wrap it around one of the horses’ necks or something. I’m not exactly an equine expert, but I don’t know what else to do.
As soon as I’m sure the noose will be secure enough to not come untied, I race back upstairs to the rail so fast, and with so much force, I cause the boat to rock a little bit. I clamp my hands on the rail when the boat rocks (because I’m terrified of it tipping). When it finally stops, I hold the cable in my hands like it’s rope, and I prepare myself to whirl it. I heave the deepest sigh I can, close my eyes for a second or two, then twirl the cable in the air and throw it.
It misses both horses by not even a foot. Just my luck. I reel the cable back in, shake it to remove as much of the water as I can (I don’t want it to hurt the horses when I throw it again), and put my hands back in the roping position. The same routine takes place; sighing, closing my eyes, throw. Miss. Sigh, eyes shut, throw. Miss. Sigh, eyes shut… throw, miss.
Sigh. By about the tenth time I’ve missed, I’m about to give up. Both horses are trembling and nickering and whinnying hysterically, and I can tell I’ve spooked them a lot, and I feel awful. I start groaning at how frustrated I am at myself and look down once again at the cable in my hands, then back out at the horses. I decide to try one more time to save them.
I keep my eyes on the horses as I inhale a deep breath of the salty air. When I exhale, all the tension leaves my muscles. I can see that one of the two exhausted animals is holding the same stare on me as I am on it. I hold the cable like a rope once more, brace myself, and twirl it. I continue to hold my gaze on the two horses, and then I throw the cable for what I hope is the last time. I close my eyes tightly when I see the makeshift lasso about to hit the water. When I open my eyes again, a huge relief washes over me. The cable finally landed around one horse’s neck.
Without hesitation, I tug gently at the cable until it tightens enough around my victim’s neck to where I can pull him close to the boat. As soon as he notices that he’s caught, he doesn’t even try to argue with the noose, and he swims at the same time I pull. When I’ve got him right next to the boat, I’m amazed at how much bigger he is than he looked; these are not small horses.
His breathing is much louder now, too. It’s like a lawnmower that’s right outside a bedroom window mixed with a million thunder strikes. I lead the horse around to the other side, where there’s no rail, and I begin trying to pull him up onto the boat. He revolts and tries to tug the cable from my hand by jerking his head back in resistance. I coo and coax him and try to be as calm as possible so he doesn’t sense my urgency. It isn’t easy, let me tell you. I’ve got one that I’m trying to get to safety, and then another that’s five feet away without anything to lean on now.
Finally, the horse gives up on resisting my help and I bring him in toward the boat. The floor I’m standing on isn’t that high up from the surface of the water, so you’d think it’d be easy to get him up here. It isn’t.
I manage to get the horse to place his forelegs on the deck. But his hind legs really aren’t strong enough at the moment. I don’t want him to hurt himself, so I have no other option but to jump in the water and help him. The cable is long enough that I can go around the little outside ‘block’ of the interior and secure the wire to the rail. So that’s what I do, and after I know it’s tight enough, I find a spot far enough away from the horse and leap into the water.
I thought it would be cold. It’s a lot colder than that. My teeth are chattering, but I quickly swim around to the horse without stopping. When he sees me, he doesn’t even wince. His breathing is still incredibly loud, but I do my best to ignore it, because I know how much pain he’s in. He has rein rope on him, which I couldn’t see from far away. I wrap my fingers around the reins and pull them forward, toward the boat. The horse paddles forward, so I swim around behind, while keeping one hand on his back the whole time in hopes that I don’t spook him when I try to lift his hind legs. He seems fine, or as fine as a horse could be in this type of situation. After patting his thigh a few times, I open my mouth, inhale as much air as I possibly can, and dive under.
It’s hard to see when everything underwater is black and white or dirt. My eyes, I have to keep narrowed so the salt and dirt don’t burn or scratch them. But I have to keep my eyes wide enough so that I can see the horse.
I feel around on the horse’s leg until my hand finds one of his hooves. It isn’t easy, because he’s kicking his legs so he doesn’t drown, and then there’s the fact that his hooves are enormous. It takes a few minutes before I can firmly hold his leg, and then I intertwine my fingers and push them under his hoof. The air in my lungs is starting to leave, and I’m so close to the water’s surface, it hurts. Gravity is regaining its hold on me and the horse I’m trying to rescue. When I can no longer breathe, a cold breeze finally hits my hand, and then there’s no longer a hoof in it. I blink, starting to feel a slight bit of relief. But then something awful happens.
The horse slips, and it’s a bad slip. His hind legs come down on my shoulder, and it hurts so bad, I want to scream. I immediately raise my head above the water and gasp for breath, my chest pounding badly from the lack of air. Everything around me is blurry, but I try to shake the feeling, and I go back under. This time I don’t even wait until the horse stops kicking for a minute, and my fingers on my right hand get cracked a little bit by the hitting pressure a hoof. I ignore the sound and quickly intertwine my fingers again, place my hands under his hoof, and swim upwards as hard as I can.
My fingers aren’t that strong, but regardless, I don’t give up on saving this dang horse, no matter how heavy he is. This time, my hand breaks the surface of the water, and I hold on to his foot for dear life until at least my neck is above water. After blinking back saltwater for a few seconds, I grab all the strength I have and shove the horse up on the boat. His right hind leg is up on the edge, while his left is in midair. As quickly as I can, I jump up to the edge of the boat and struggle to pull myself up. When I’m all the way up, I stand and pull the rope and cable, and finally, all four of the stallion’s legs are firmly on the deck.
After pulling the horse far enough from the edge of the boat, I take a few minutes to catch my breath and gets every shiver I have out of me. I don’t even take the time to mess around before I’m already tying the rope that this horse has to the rail and unlooping and raising the cable from his neck. When I get the cable from around his neck, I’m already working it back to a lasso. I glance out over the water at the other horse. It looks worse than the stallion I have on the boat with me, so I’m trying to work fast on the cable. I finally get it back to how it was, and I prepare to throw when the pain in my fingers starts to sink in more. I throw the cable anyways, and miss the stranded animal by a yard.
I reel in and throw the rope and miss two more times before I realize that I don’t have the strength to do this again. Tears are flooding and streaming from my eyes by now, and I shake my head angrily at myself. Over my shoulder, I glance at the stallion. His legs are shaking, and it’s horrifying. I keep thinking he’s going to collapse, and he almost does twice, but catches himself both times. Then I glance out, back at the other horse. It’s trying to swim toward the boat, to its companion, but it doesn’t have any more the amount of strength to swim that I do to throw the cable.
It takes me a few minutes to decide what I should do. Leaving the horse stranded in the water is not an option. If I rescued one, I rescue both. They’re obviously very close to each other, and the one that’s feet away is anxious to get back to its friend. After staring blankly into space, and directly toward the victimized animal in the water, I’ve made my decision. After I wrap the cable up and throw it in, I jump back in the water.
It’s just as cold now as it was a few minutes ago, but I start swimming out to sea as soon as I hit the water. The horse gets closer with every kick I force my legs into, and with every stroke of my arms. When the size of the horse starts to become clearer, I unravel the cable until it’s just the noose part and a long line. I finally reach the equine, and it’s so exhausted that it doesn’t even fight when I toss the loop over its neck.
I tighten the cable little by little, then place my hand between it and the horse’s neck. The horse doesn’t even care until I start trying to tug the noose, and then it starts to jerk its head back. I rub my free hand on the animal’s cheek, then its ear. I don’t even wait till the thing’s calm before I start tugging and pulling and paddling back to the boat. It takes a few minutes before the horse finally budges, but it does. And we’re both here in the water, shivering and swimming and dragging, hauling, even, our bodies back to the boat.
When we’re finally in reach of the boat, I don’t even have time to feel relief, because now there’s something else to worry about that I didn’t even think of. And they have about three thousand teeth each.
Stupid sharks! I finally almost get the second of the two horses to the boat, and then these guys show up! It’s so frightening and frustrating at the same time. I don’t even dare look down, because if I see a fin, I will scream. I try to release my fear, because I can see that the other being at the end of this ‘rope’ is catching my fear like a cold. Every fiber of me is shivering, but I throw the free end of the wire over the rail and loop it and grab one of the poles and pull my butt out of the water.
These horses are pure troopers, because I’ve never known an animal alive that could stand this kind of circumstance. I glance down at my final rescue attempt and tug it over to the other side of the boat; the same spot I pulled the other horse up. This horse has no rope reins, which I automatically know is going to make this a lot more difficult. I pull the horse until its forelegs are firmly (or at least, sort of) up on the deck, run the cable over to the other side and secure it to the rail as tightly as possible, make sure the stallion is alright (which he is), don’t even take a moment to try to breathe, and jump in the water again.
I refuse to look at anything around me, other than the horse and the boat. When I reach the horse again, it’s breathing worse than it was on the way back to the boat. Its nostrils are majorly flared, and its eyes are far more bloodshot than the other’s. I can tell that, besides being utterly near dead from exhaustion, the horse is also terrified. Because now the sharks are circling. I feel a dorsal fin swipe my ankle and I shiver and gag a little bit, but dive under with no hesitation whatsoever. This part… I can say I hate it, and it’s so much worse the second time around. But at the same time, it isn’t as bad.
Since this horse is way more tuckered out than the other, it isn’t kicking its legs as hard, so it’s easy to find one of its hooves. As soon as I do, I intertwine my fingers, hope to God it’s for the last time, and start to lift the equine’s leg out of the water.
Everything around me is so cold, I can’t even feel how much pressure I’m putting on my arms and spine. My hands are numb, so it sort of hurts to be lifting a two-ton horse with my hands. But I don’t waste any of my effort, and it finally pulls off when the horse has all four hooves on the deck. When I see this, I don’t even swim around to the rail side; I jump up on the deck and pull myself up as best I can, then snatch the cable and yank without meaning to. This horse is a mare. She doesn’t even put up a fight when I yank the noose, and follows close behind. I see her ears perk up a little when she spots the stallion, and I quickly release her from the cable’s hold.
Last edited by Quill on Sun Oct 28, 2012 8:34 pm; edited 2 times in total
Quill- Sentry
- Posts : 173
Join date : 2012-09-30
Location : daydreaming in paradise -
Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Blayse Sat Oct 27, 2012 4:56 pm
Great stories, Quill! :3 Keep on keeping on, mahn!
Blayse- Guardian
- Posts : 190
Join date : 2012-10-14
Age : 25
Location : South Africa.
Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Crisis Sat Oct 27, 2012 10:40 pm
Wow, Quill! The horses were a surprise at the end xD
Crisis- Noble
- Posts : 71
Join date : 2012-10-05
Location : England, UK.
Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Quill Sun Oct 28, 2012 1:08 am
xD I came up with the idea for this while reading a novel about a boy and a tiger.
Quill- Sentry
- Posts : 173
Join date : 2012-09-30
Location : daydreaming in paradise -
Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Blayse Sun Oct 28, 2012 8:07 pm
Ahaha, I agree with Crisis. I love the way you write, dude anymore?
Blayse- Guardian
- Posts : 190
Join date : 2012-10-14
Age : 25
Location : South Africa.
Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Quill Sun Oct 28, 2012 8:22 pm
I'll add on 
I'll make sure to let you all know when I do.
I'll make sure to let you all know when I do.
Quill- Sentry
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Join date : 2012-09-30
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Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Blayse Sun Oct 28, 2012 9:18 pm
Oh lord. O.o Did you write all that now??
Blayse- Guardian
- Posts : 190
Join date : 2012-10-14
Age : 25
Location : South Africa.
Quill- Sentry
- Posts : 173
Join date : 2012-09-30
Location : daydreaming in paradise -
Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Blayse Sun Oct 28, 2012 9:23 pm
Uh. That's hectic. Way to go, mahn!
Blayse- Guardian
- Posts : 190
Join date : 2012-10-14
Age : 25
Location : South Africa.
Re: Preview: The Tea Light (add-on 10/28/12)
by Quill Sun Oct 28, 2012 9:24 pm
Haha, thanks xD I'll write more as soon as I get the chance.
Quill- Sentry
- Posts : 173
Join date : 2012-09-30
Location : daydreaming in paradise -
Whoo. Lols.
Blayse- Guardian
- Posts : 190
Join date : 2012-10-14
Age : 25
Location : South Africa.
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