Question

Is anyone reading my Darkness Lifting story? If so, will you please comment so I know? I don't care if I don't know you. I just want to know whether I should keep posting it.

Fourth installment of Darkness Lifting

Chapter Two – Settling In
Elena woke the next morning to the sound of voices. She recognized that of Isaac and his mother, Loraine.
“Should I wake her up?”
“Let her sleep. The poor girl hasn’t had a soft bed in years. She can enjoy it a little longer.”
“Mother?”
“M-hm?”
“Had you hear of Elena before?”
“Yes. My aunt employed her a few years back, before she knew who she was.”
“What happened then?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It didn’t go well, did it?”
“Aunt Clara was scared. She didn’t know who she was, or what she was.”
“How did… what did she do with Elena?”
“She went and got my cousin, Stephan. He talked to Elena.”
“Talked?”
“Isaac, they were scared. They didn’t realize that Elena was just a girl.”
“What did he do to her?”
“He told her to leave his mother alone. Aunt Clara said that she nodded, picked up her few belongings, and left without a word. When she was out of sight, they sent a group of men to make sure she stayed away from the village.”
Elena laid her head back down. She remembered the day they spoke of well. She was twelve years old and had finally found a peaceful place to stay. She had a good job spinning wool for Mistress Clara’s weaving business. Then one day, when she thought she was alone, she had done the spinning while she was sitting on a blanket… and the spinning wheel was across the room. Mistress Clara had come in, seen the spinning wheel, and gasped. Elena, startled, had stopped spinning, lifted a piece of furniture, and looked at the source of the sound. Seeing her employer, she had put down the chair and stood. But it was too late. She was found out. Mistress Clara had left, locking the door behind her. Elena could have escaped, but she was still hopeful. She gathered her things and sat, waiting.
After a couple hours went by, a large man had come it. Elena recognized him as Mistress Clara’s son. “What are you?” he asked, “Is it true that you lifted a chair without moving a muscle? Is it true that you were threatening my mother?”
She saw the knife he was holding at his side, but wasn’t too worried. She could stop any attacks. “I am a girl,” she answered, “And I would never threaten your mother, though I did lift that chair.”
“Mother said you were spinning while sitting yards away from the wheel.”
“That is correct.”
“How could you do such a thing?”
“I don’t know. I just can.”
“Are you related to old Sara?”
“She’s my grandmother. I never met her, though.”
“Look, girl, I want you to leave. Leave now, and never come back.”
She had turned to grab her things. “Yes, sir.”
“Don’t steal anything.”
“I am not stealing. I bought these things with the wages I earned.”
Stephan had strode closer, raising his knife a little higher. “You had better not take anything that isn’t yours.”
“Can I have that knife?”
“No!”
Elena looked the man right in the eyes. “If you are kicking me out, you could at least provide me with the tools to survive.”
“If my mother told the truth, you won’t need a knife.”
“I don’t like to steal, but I really need that.” She had stared at the knife, prying it from his hands. It flew to her, and she packed it away while Stephan gaped.
“You are a witch!”
“I don’t like it when people call me that.”
“Go.” His voice wavered. “Go now.”
“I’m going.” She had left. That night, she wandered the forest, looking for shelter. The patrol had found her and taken her in. She had escaped the next day, but she never forgot how Mistress Clara and her son had treated her. She didn’t trust Loraine. She was nice, but her aunt had been, too, before throwing Elena out. This safe house wouldn’t last long.

a thought

I was just at therebelution.com, reading the result of a modesty survey they tool last year. In it, Christian men and boys gave advice to girls about modesty. As I was reading this, I was struck with the fact that many, many of my wonderful Christian friends don't seem to realize/consider/think about/care what their clothing (or lack there of) can do to guys. To my friends reading my blog, Don't take this personally if you think I am referring to you. There is even a grown Christian woman I look up to who doesn't always seem to realize/consider/think about/care about modesty. I think it is important that we as Christian girls and women need to check ourselves (and our closets) regulary for anything that might cause our brothers to stumble. Some of my friends might lable me obsessed with modesty. After looking at therebelution.com, I discovered that I am not quite as modest as I thought. Anyway, I just wanted to challenge my friends to stop and think tomorrow morning when they get dressed. Is there any way the guys around you could stumble? I'm not saying cover every part of you, but... Just a thought.

Third Installment of Darkness Lifting

Here is the rest of chapter one:
Sixty five minutes later, Isaac checked the halls for unscheduled visitors. He then went to get the keys, hidden around the corner. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was helping Elena out, except that she didn’t deserve a witch’s death, which he knew Lord Rozac was planning for her. His mother had taught him that witches where people involved with spirits and supernatural things. What Elena had was entirely different. She had a gift from Abador, the same way he had a gift for sword fighting, or his friend, Rueben, had a gift for tracking. Granted, she was a little stand offish, but no one was perfect. Her anger would fade away with exposure to nicer people.
He grabbed the keys and fiddled with them, finding the right one for her door. This was exciting! If things went according to planned, Elena would be out of Lord Rozac’s tower and at his cottage before midnight. He unlocked the door and it swung open, seemingly of its own accord. He jumped back, unsettled. He was not comforted when the black haired, dark eyed, pale girl walked out with the tiniest of satisfied half-smiles. Her face reverted into its normal hard expression, and she looked straight into his eyes.
“This had better all be real, Isaac van Hufer, because if you betray me, you will be sorry.” She pronounced her words in cold articulation. The part that gave him goose bumps was that he had never told her his last name. Maybe he had made a mistake letting this girl out.
When he found his voice, he told her, “I would never, ever betray you. Ma’am.” He added the last part out of pure respect for what she could do to him.
She looked amused. “Your full name is embroidered on your tunic.” He was sure his expression conveyed his horror. Could she read his thoughts, too? Maybe she was a witch! “I can read your face like a book, Isaac. I am not a witch.”
“I knew that,” he bluffed. Her left eyebrow was raised just a hair. “We should escape now,” he said decidedly, uncomfortable with the situation.
“Indeed? I though the goal of your getting the keys was for you to stand before me looking stupid.”
He turned red and turned to the door. She was enjoying this too much. Thankfully, he still had the sense to look carefully before motioning Elena forward. Two doors, three sets of stairs, and four hallways later, the escape was working perfectly. He opened the next door, confident that his plan had no faults. But he had miscalculated. George, his friend on the guard, was feet in front of them. He tried to motion the escapee back, but it was too late. They had been spotted.
“Isaac! What are you doing down here? I thought you were supposed to be up watching the …” his face darkened. “Why is she out? You didn’t help her break out, did you?”
Isaac didn’t know what to do. “George, I…”
Elena stepped forward. “Here is the deal, Sir George of Celvont: you let us pass without a word, and your family will sleep safe tonight. Breathe a word to anyone; your wife, Lord Rozac; anyone, and well…” she let a threatening smirk slide onto her face. An invisible force pushed George against the wall. “… I don’t think I need to tell you exactly what will happen. But just in case you wonder, I will tell you this: whatever I do to you will be a lot worse than any punishment your superiors may bestow. Have we reached an understanding?” The knight-guard nodded. “Good. Come along, Isaac.” When they had taken a few steps forwards, she looked over her shoulder and whispered, “Remember, George: not a word.” And she strode away so swiftly that Isaac, a good five inches taller, had to trot to keep up.
“How did you know all that about Sir George?” Isaac asked once they had successfully cleared the castle and were safe in the woods.
She sighed, as if the answer were obvious. “Simple observations. His name and station were embroidered on his shirt, like yours. He was wearing a wedding ring. And there was a stain on his tunic right were one would burp a baby. He must be a good father.”
He stopped and looked at her with admiration. “Wow. You’re good.”
“Previously established. Now, unless you have something intelligent to say, shall we move on?”
“You don’t have to act like I’m stupid,” he grumbled, resuming his way home, “Because I’m not.”
She didn’t say anything, clearly expressing her opinion of that statement.
“I graduated top of my class this year.” Still not a word. “I was the best swordsman.” Silence. “I bet you can’t even tell the hilt from the blade.” He could hear the crickets chirping in the background. He was getting frustrated with her unresponsiveness. “You are so ungrateful!” he exploded, “I generously offer to help you escape the tower, am leading you to my home, but do you say so much as a ‘thank you’? No! It’s all insults and pride. You won’t even carry on a proper conversation!”
“We are trying to get to your cottage without anyone noticing us, are we not?” she inquired calmly. “And the best way to do that is to keep quiet, am I right? So perhaps it would be best if you shut up, stopped making immature statements, and led the way home. Unless, of course, you have changed your mind about me, in which case I can stroll around alone and find a cave.”
His was stricken, and he seriously considered letting her go live in a cave alone. But he realized she was right. Maybe she’ll thank me when we get home. If she can stop treating me like I’m slow. He pushed down his pride. “Alright. Silence it is, then, ‘til we reach home.”
Elena actually felt slightly bad about talking to Isaac like that. She really was grateful for his help. She was simply unused to conversing with people, let alone thanking them. And she doubted that she would ever have to get used to it. After all, she was never in one place for long, and Isaac’s his mother would surely kick her out at the first sign of her unique abilities.
And yet, when the moonlight illuminated a cozy cottage with smoke coming from its chimney, she found herself wishing she had such a home to come to. But she knew, even as she walked side by side with Isaac, that such a thing would never happen. She would never have a garden like the one they walked by. She would never have frost-encrusted grass like the carefully groomed patch they strode through. The beautiful middle aged blonde in the doorway would never be her mother. She would never hug someone like the woman hugged Isaac. She would never be able to say, “Come on inside, meet my mother,” with such love and happiness that anyone could tell she was home, she was accepted.
No, she was a fugitive, always would be, and even as Isaac’s mother served her steaming chicken broth, she knew it was all temporary. Soon, she would again be in a cave, eating berries or crudely cooked rabbit, alone except for perhaps a raven to nurse to health. She stared into her bowl of broth, brutally honest with herself. This tiny family seemed nice, to be sure, but this comfort could not be hers for long. It was her lot in life to never be accepted. It could never be any other way.

Spanish Final

Today, I took my Spanish Final. I am sort of stressing about it, because there were a couple of questions I think I got wrong. I am pretty sure I will get an A, but I might get a B, and I am usually super confident about my Spanish tests, so I am having a hard time. AAAAHHHH!

See the little worried Mexican? That's me.

Second installment of Darkness Lifting

Note: This is only part of Chapter one. I'll post more later.
Chapter One – Freed
Three months after being captured, Elena had still not escaped. She had tried, oh how she had tried. But after imprisoning her six other times, the people had learned their lesson. They now knew that she could not have windows opening outside within sight, not even if they were beyond her grasp. They knew that her dungeon walls had to be five feet thick and that her door had to be steel, not wood. They knew that she could have no wooden furniture available, and that the keys should be kept out of sight at all times. Their ‘witch’ was the highest security prisoner of all time.
She still had not given up. The first time she had been in a dungeon, when she was four years old, she had been held for five months before breaking out. Eventually, the guards would ease up their watchfulness. They would become careless, she knew. She could wait until then. She was patient. Besides, after a while, her bare dark stone room became homey. It was gloomy and lonely, matching her mood perfectly. The food was free, which was nice, and so far she was alive, also preferable. The only problem, other than her lack of freedom, was the young guard who was assigned to her in the afternoons five days a week.
She had a small looking window in her wall, one foot square, through which she could see the guards and the guards could see her. She ignored it, except to look for a way to escape. At first, she had been delighted to have an opening for her to asses the guard through, but one week after her capture, an annoying, talkitve, large, red-headed youth was assigned to her, and she immediately was wishing for a curtain and earplugs.
He had introduced himself on his first day, cheerfully supplying his name so she knew exactly who she was hating. “My name’s Isaac,” he had told her, smiling, as if she cared. She had simply glared at him, hoping he would go sit and day dream like a normal guard. “Well, aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
“My name is Elena, if you must know,” she had replied, “Now if you please, I was having a pleasant time before you showed up and would appreciate it if you would go off like a normal person and ignore me.” She had then turned back to the dust model she was making, thought for a moment, blinked, and made it into a rabid wolf instead.
“Whoa. How did you do that?” Isaac had asked. She ignored him. “Hello-o? I asked you a question.”
“Please, you are annoying me. Have you perchance heard what I do to people who annoy me?”
He had thought for a moment, then replied, “Nope.” In answer, Elena had glared at his neck, driving him to the wall. “I think I remember now,” he choked out, face drained of all color.
“Good.”
For a week or so, she had peace again. But then he started asking questions, such as, “You are not really a witch, are you?” and, “What are you making?” or, “Hey, is that dust model me?” usually followed by, “Why are there hands around the model’s throat? Wait. Is that my head rolling on the ground next to the headless body?” Sometimes she was lucky and her glares scared him off, leaving her once again in blissful silence. Sometimes she was not, and he kept pestering her.
Yet three months into her stay in the dungeon tower, his presence was beginning to grow on her. As she laid, bored, on the dirty floor of her cell, she found herself wishing he would come annoy her, if only because it was fun to be angry at him. Unlike most of Lord Rozac’s guards, he didn’t believe she was a witch. He seemed to consider her a human being. She might almost… miss him if she managed to escape. Of course, these changes were subconscious. She did not need a friend. She didn’t need companionship. She had got on fine without anyone for twelve years, and would continue to do so when she broke out. She knew better than to hope for a person to love her for who she was. She knew better than to hope for a friendship with someone who knew her unique powers. The few people she trusted had either betrayed her or died. Her heart was bruised enough. She didn’t need to risk further injury.
Besides, loneliness was perfect. She didn’t have to worry about anyone else, and no one had to worry about her. She could sleep when she wanted, eat when she wanted, do anything she wanted without anyone disrupting her routine. She didn’t have to look at someone’s idiotic face. No one peppered her with unnecessary questions. No one spoke when she wanted to rest. Yes, the life alone was the perfect life.
Elena molded her colorless lunch into the shape of a raven, wishing she could fly away from her tower cell. How wonderful it would be to be free like the raven in the sky! It won’t be long now, she told herself, There will be an opening soon. Then they will wish they had left me alone. She had told herself that last week. And the week before that. As she was trapped longer and longer, her anger built. With a glare she squashed her raven. She needed to take out her anger on humans, soon. Though perhaps, given a bit more time, she would have simmered long enough to blow right through those five foot thick walls. They can’t hold me much longer.
There were footsteps, and voices. The guards were switching. Here comes the red-headed blabber mouth, she thought, There goes my beautiful silence. To her surprise, Isaac didn’t speak right away. Rather, he stood quietly – quietly! – as if listening. After a full minute, a looked around, as if making sure he was alone. He then approached Elena’s cell.
“What?” she asked irritably.
“What what?”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought you were being strange, but then I remembered what the object of consideration was, and disregarded my hypothesis.”
“Huh?”
She spoke slowly, as if to a small child. “You are strange. You may leave now.”
He shook his head. “Whatever,” he said, jumping in place (was he ever still?). “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that if you are nice, I might be able to get you out of here.”
“Really?” she stretched out the question. Her attention was grabbed, but she was doubtful, suspicious.
“Yep. There are three guards home sick this shift, and Lord Rozac is at the king’s funeral. I could have you free in a couple hours.”
“And in return?” The few times anyone had helped Elena, they had expected her to repay them some way, usually by ‘taking care of’ their enemies. She never helped them, which resulted with another person to run from.
“I ask nothing in return, though Mother would like it if you would come to our cottage to eat and perhaps rest a night.”
She thought for only a moment. She could always escape him if she wanted to. “Alright. When do you let me out of here?”
He grinned. “Night falls in an hour. We can start off then.”

First installment of Darkness Lifting

Darkness Falling
Prologue
Elena ran faster than she ever had before. If they caught her, they would lock her up forever, perhaps even kill her. She was gasping, but couldn’t stop. They couldn’t catch her, they could never catch her. She ducked under another tree branch. The darkness of night was to her advantage. She used the shadows to camouflage her flight.
She was almost out of breath. She turned around. She could go no further. It was time to stop and put up a fight. With her power, she could win. She had to win. The three dozen men and horses surrounded her, pointing their menacing lances down at her.
She almost panicked. Then, the lances flew out of the men’s hands to a ditch a hundred feet away. One man held on to his lance. He, too, was thrown in the ditch. His screams stopped, leaving an eerie silence as Elena glared at her foes. Half of them dismounted, leveling their swords at her. She smirked. Mere swords could not frighten her. They should know that by now. The swords were ripped from their masters’ grip, and their tips pointed back at the men who had held them. An arrow whistled past her ear. ”Snakes,” she whispered. She had forgotten about the men still on horses. “Stay there,” she ordered the swords, turning her attention to the arrows peppering the sky.
“Give up, you witch!” commanded the leader, “We have won. You can’t avoid all our arrows.”
“Watch me,” Elena said under her breath, seething. I am not a witch. She started spinning in place, trying to keep an eye on the arrows and archers. An arrow got past her sight and grazed her arm. She ignored it. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Whenever there was a pause in the arrows, she picked an archer up off his horse and snatched away his bow. I can do this.
But she was tiring. Her sight was becoming blurry. Her head hurt from keeping the swords in place. Suddenly, the swords dropped. She was unable to pick them up, able only to keep the arrows from piercing her. The men were closing in on her. She lashed out one last time, pushing ten of the men on the ground. A net fell on her, and she collapsed on the ground, unwilling to make this easy for them. They blind folded her and threw her over a horse. She gave up, knowing that she had lost this battle.

A New Story

As some of you may know, I have decided to step back from my rewriting process of Liliannalissa. I need to take a break before finishing that story. Meanwhile, I have begun a new story I am calling Darkness Lifting. It is about a girl who (don't laugh) lives in a country I made up in a middle age type world and has special abilities: she can move things without touching them. Her whole life she has been on the run from people who call her a witch.
I am considering posting regular increments on my blog. I have already finished the prologue and first chapter. Should I post my story?