Sunday, April 26, 2009

New look!

Please tell us what you think here!
(Don't forget to say if there's something you can't read.)
{Or, like, hard to make out!}
(That's what I meant by can't read!)
[Children, come now, fighting is not the way...)
Oy vie!

Long time, no see!

{Like, hi!}
Alright... WHOA! Litta, don't scare us like that.
{Sorry! I've got an itch.}
Alright, then go find some maiden or whatever you get.
Okay, everyone, give a big round of aplause to Everston! Hi, Everston, how was your trip?
[Well enough, thank you Emniastareiana.]
You've been reading the blog, haven't you?.
[Yes, you stone-faced elf.]
Good. For. You.
Now then, you were where?
[Dragon circle, in Scotland.]
Really? Neat. Now, do you remember what you were doing there? *and why you had to come back?!*
[I didn't have to come back, I wanted to.]
You heard that...?
[Yes. I was there about 'family'... afairs.]
Ah. Do you remember where I left off in the story?
[The maiden.]

~~~Song Four~~~

Ashsa felt her fingers find something warm in the feathery mess. She burried her face where it was and let the sand in the air whip her feet.
"Hold on, Spinner!" the girl's voice said.
Suddenly Ashsa felt her stomack drop. She held on with all of her might.
But what good did that do?
Ashsa felt herself slip. Her Fingers tried to grip the feathers tighter, but it did no good. She fell into the depths bellow.
Her voice became hoarse as she screamed quietly.

"Princess!" a boys voice!
Ashsa felt feathers under her once more, and opened her eyes. She was riding a griffin! Ashsa held her breath and let go of the feathers.
"Where am I?!" Ashsa shouted over the fast winds and sand whipping her face.
"Hold on," the boy said.
Her stomack dropped as they did. She saw a small hut as they dropped.
The griffin landed, and Ashsa jumped of as the boy slid off with much more grace.
"Who are you?!" Ashsa demanded to know.
The boy kneeled down, and as other griffin riders jumped down from there griffins they did the same.
Ashsa put her nose to the sky and smiled wickidly. At last she found some servants who would be kind to her! She would at last be a real princess.
"Princess Ashsa, we wish to have you join our band," the boy, who was still kneeling, said quietly.
"Why should I?" Ashsa said, her jaw tightening.
Suddenly a girl jumped up and snapped, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN???" the girl walked over and stood face-to-face with Ashsa. "We rescue you from dieing in a moat full of starving crocodiles, and we get this in return!!!!!"
"Maybe you should have left me there," Ashsa said rudely.
"It's never too late!" the girl said as she dragged Ashsa to her griffin.
Ashsa started to put up a rather terrible fight.
"Tasi." The boy walked over to them. He grabbed the girl's hand and shook his head.
The girl took back her hand and looked down.
"You should," the boy said to Ashsa. "Because we protect Spinners. Your parents were going to kill you soon after they found out you had a gift, but then were going to save you until the next feast of Bloomsday. The day of the Spinners. The day they were going to burn all of them. You must help us to save your own kind!"
Ashsa looked into the boy's eyes. They were a silver, a colour she had always hated.
"Why? What did my own kind do for me?" Ashsa said.
"They saved you on your birthday. That old woman? She made your parents wait to kill you. You had three weeks, but it was easy to convince them not to do it," a small girl on the edge of the crowd of griffin riders said.
"Oh." Ashsa said.
Ashsa thought for a while. "I'll help you, but only a bit."
The crowd cheered, and the boy lifted up the girl. She threw her arms around him and laughed.
The girl was put down and then she said, "I'm Tasi."
The boy held out his hand. "Tristen."
"Ashsa, Princess of the Spinners."

Spinning is a rare gift, something someone can posses with a heart of words and a mind of good.
To find how to Spin, smile to the sun, let the rain fall, as the leaves turn brown; laugh.
Spin. Spinning. Spinner. Spun.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Happy Easter...

To all who read (or have read) this blog. Have fun dying eggs, going on easter egg hunts, whatever you do.
And do take some time on easter to celibrate Jesus' life, death, resurection.
Here's a song that we thought might be a good one to post:

Here comes Peter Cottontail,
Hopping' down the bunny trail,
Hippity, hoppity,Easter's on its way.

Bringing' every girl and boy
Baskets full of Easter joy,
Things to make your Easter bright and gay.

He's got jellybeans for Tommy,
Colored eggs for sister Sue,
There's an orchid for your Mommy
And an Easter bonnet, too.

Oh! here comes Peter Cottontail,
Hopping' down the bunny trail,
Hippity hoppity,
Happy Easter day.

Here comes Peter Cottontail,
Hopping' down the bunny trail,
Look at him stop, and listen to him say:
"Try to do the things you should."

Maybe if you're extra good,
He'll roll lots of Easter eggs your way.
You'll wake up on Easter morning
And you'll know that he was there
When you find those chocolate bunnies
That he's hiding everywhere.

Oh! here comes Peter Cottontail,
Hopping' down the bunny trail,
Hippity hoppity,Happy Easter day.

NOTICE: These lyrics were copy-and-pasted. We give all credit to Thank you, indobase peoples! We really hope you don't mind! :)

~~~Song 3~~~

Whoa! Litta, put the fire OUT!!!

{Ah! Sorry, I didn't mean to, like, it was by accident!}

(Litta, no one cares, JUST PUT IT OUT!)

Ah, ah, ah... There. It's out. Happy?

(Yes, thank you Emnia. Hey, can you just call you Emy?)

Ah, no. Emnia. And if that's too long, you can call by my full name: Emniastareiana.

{Like, whoa. Who would name there kid that?}

(Her parents, LITTA!)

Ashen, cool it. Just because Litta's getting on everyone's nerves does not mean we have any rights--and some of us don't have any brains-- to be cruel. And Emniastareiana is pretty long.

{Like, why does your entire family's name all end with "iana?"}

Tristan and Doug's names don't. Only the girls names end with 'iana': Tristiana-- who was named after the forest clan's leader, Veritiana-- who would know why we have 'iana' at the and of all of our names, Wanteriana, Elicastiana, and Heristreiana.

(Wow. But yours is the longest.)

Yep, rrriiigggghhhttt, Ashenistareicon.

{Like, yours is longer.}

Not by much!

(Emniastareiana versus Ashenistareicon. Wait... 14 against 15! Ha I...)

Loose! I told you Emniastareiana was shorter!

{Wait... Why does Emniastareiana and Ashenistareicon both have 'stare' in the same place?}

Because that's called 'inherhitoeh names'. It means that we have some relation, or did at one point in time.

{That doesn't explain why your sisters don't have that last name.}

It's a little...

(Weird to discuss. We'll tell you when you're way older.)

Anyhoo, should we wait any longer to begin our story?

(Go right ahead, Emniastareiana. I'm waiting.)

I swear one day I'll--

(Is that really the story?)



Ashsa waited until the castle fell asleep. She snuck out of her room and ran away from her door. Hiding in the shadows, she breathed slowly in, slowly out.
"Now or never," Ashsa ran towards the main gates and pulled up her hood.
"Young girl, shouldn't you be in bed?" a soldier called down.
Doing her best accent of a slave, she called up, "Mummy's in a illness pot. Bringing her meds."
"Illness pot...?" the soldier suddenly left, and Ashsa hoped he was getting others to help his lower the bridge.
"Come, now, hurry!" Ashsa muttered.
"You there! Princess Ashsa!"
A soldier was going to take her away!
"Oh, no, I don't think so!" Ashsa pushed down her skirts to reveal what she had been hiding for months-- boys' pants.
The soldier stopped and his cheeks grew red-- blood red.
Ashsa took this pause to get a head start. Running towards the gate, she stuck her feet into the square holes and slowly made her way up.
"Open the gates!" soldiers were yelling crazily over the bridge.
Ashsa felt her stomach ease in an ill way, and she held on for her dear life as she was lifted into air, nothing but her own grip holding her up.
"Let go!" a girl's voice called.
Ashsa was not listening to orders, but to her own head. Letting go, she fell in the air. Suddenly she landed on something soft, like a leather bag.
Then she felt feathers.
"Hold on, princess of written spells."
Was some one accusing her of being a witch? She was not, and she would never do anything like it.
"I am no witch," Ashsa managed to get out. "I am a Spinner."

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

For Bear

As a request from Kiera, who's dog has gone over the Rainbow Bridge, we now will type a song from her church which she and her sister sang on the fateful day their dog passed away.

(It Is Well With My Sole)

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows role,
Whatever my lot thou hast thought me to say,
"It is well, it is well with my sole"
It is well (girls echo)
With my sole (girls echo)
It is well, it is well with my sole.

Another song which Kiera sang when it was the last moments with their dog:

(Mighty to Save)

Everyone needs compassion,
And love that's never failing.
Let mercy fall on me.
And everyone needs forgiveness,
The kindness of a Savior,
The Hope of the Nations.

(music break)

My Savior, He can move the mountains,
My God is mighty to save,
He is mighty to save.
Forever the Author of salvation,
He rose and Conquered the grave,
Jesus conquered the grave.

(music break)

So take me as you find me,
All my fears and faliures,
And fill my life again.
I give my life to follow,
Everything I believe in.
Now I surrender.

(8 count music break)

My Savior, He can move the mountains,
My God is mighty to save,
He is mighty to save.
Forever the Author of Salvation,
He rose and conquered the grave,
Jesus Conquered the Grave
(repeat 1x)

Shine your light,
And let the whole world see,
We're singing for the glory,
Of the Risen King,
Jesus, Shine your light,
And let the whole world see,
We're singing for the glory,
Of the Risen King.

(4 count music break)

My Savior, He can move the mountains,
My God is Mighty to Save,
He is Mighty to Save,
Forever, the Author of Salvation,
He rose and Conquered the Grave,
Jesus Conqered the Grave... (fade...)

To Bear
November 2001-March 2009

~Emnia, with all love.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Pause from the story...

This is more important.
Ashen and I have noticed something that must be stopped. Ashen, can you make an example?
(I'll try)

jk. u shuldt hve mde that thing lok dorky. now evry1 wil lagh. lol, jkjkjkjkjk.

Do you get where we're headed? Text-talk is making grammar look BAD. No one uses good grammar these days. And if anyone could please translate that, please do. But Kiera has told us of her emails and how they are hard to decipher. Please comment and tell us what you think.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

~~~The Second Song~~~ Emnia Elf

Now, Ashsa's horse had died only a few days after she had turned twelve. It was also a few days before her Twelve Year Party, an old tradition that could not be broken.
When Ashsa's party was ready, her parents invited the whole kingdom. Everyone-- well, almost-- came. Ashsa was made to sit and greet every single one of them, which made her want to scream. As she sat bored to tears while she accepted the gifts, others were having a great ball.
Finally, after five hours greeting people, she started to mutter to herself. Not mean things about how things were so terrible, but stories. Ones that scared people, that enchanted them.
When Ashsa was spinning a tale full of heart, an old woman was coming up the deserted greeting isle. She smiled at Ashsa, who was silenced by surprise.
"Dear fellow Spinner, I see a great journey ahead of you. You must learn how to Spinn so many things. But, I beg you to be careful of your tongue. One too many tales can make them life. And kill." With that, the old woman left.
Ashsa thought about the woman. Spinner. Destiny was silly. A young girl was usless. Spinner?

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The Story Teller: ~~~First Song~~~

Ha. No.
{then, like, tell.}
[Emnia, you do owe us a story, or something. You did take us here I do-- do-- ACHOO!]
Get under cover!
(whoa! Look out! Emnia!)
Ow. Thanks, Ashen. I really liked that strand of hair.
(Sorry. Didn't mean to yank it THAT hard.)
Well, you did.
{Help! Ah! Ah! Fire!}
Oh, here. *pulls water from air, puts out papers on fire.*
{Like, thanks!}
(Huh. Now, please tell us a tale, Mrs. Story-teller.)
No. Ha. No. No, way, no.
{Please? Like, they've got a, like, point.}
[Yes. *big sniff* God bless me.]
Wow! That's really how you type that?
(hey, I'm doing my best!)
(Now how about that story? For the blog, of course.)
Well... I suppose. What type?
{The good type.}
[One that will not fasinate us, but all.]
Umm... How about the one of Lousy and Derk?
{NO! That one can be lost in, like, all of history, for like, all we care. Like, invent one!}
Hm. Sure.

Once, way back when stories were all for teaching and none were for the joy of words, there was a young princess name Ashsa. Now Ashsa was a good girl, but no one liked her. When she turned eight, her family betrothed her to a prince, and only a month later the betrothal was broken.
Now, it was not because she was ugly, or unpolite, but because she had wild thoughts, ones where happy endings were not uncommon, and her tounge was always telling these stories to anyone near her. The prince soon said after his stay at Ashsa's castle that she was too much.
By Ashsa's twelth birthday, she had learned how to control her tounge, but her mind was always thinking of how words would sound if they were happier. Her lectures by then were only how words were corupted. How they hurt. But she never could get that into her head. Everything was about good words, bad words, and every night she sneaked into the library and stole a grammar book and taught herself to write, she learned grammar, and how to tell stories as if it were nothing.
Whenever Ashsa went for a ride on her horse, she would tell him stories. But even he seemed to know that they were forbidden and he threw her off his back. Of course, this was just another thing that stood in her way of story telling.
But this never stopped her. Her voice was her's, and that was the one thing she couldn't ever give up.

Once and a while,
A gift is bestowed.
A child is given a name.

But maybe that name,
Has a bit more to say,
If only one would listen.

Maybe a tale,
Of knights on steeds,
Would be written to all hearts.

Maybe a dragon,
Would take a maiden,
Only wanting her dinner from thy start.

Maybe a break from old life,
Would save a sole or two,
Keeping us busy with happy minds,
Could save me or you.

So, read on friends,
And maybe you will be,
A spinner of tales,
A lover of words,
A maiden pure of heart.

From: Kiera's Peoms 2007
Singer From Origanal Book:
Elly and Frieda (Imposter and Heart Breakers)

Monday, February 16, 2009

Hello! I HIGHLY dout anyone will read this, but...

Who cares? [me.] Shh! Ha, uh, don't listen to the dude in the []. His name is Everston, a.k.a., Dragon's Gas. Don't ask. You don't want to find out.
Oh! By the way, I'm Emnia. THE elf. I have four other friends with me, I'll let them introduce themselves!
[Everston, young-lings. I do think we've been introduced... Maybe not...]
{Like, hi! I'm Litta, that's pronounced LIGHT-ta. Cool, right? I, like, know it is....}
(Dude, I'm Ashen. I just want to tell you that Everston is a dragon and Litta is a unicorn. Like dude! Ow! that pin of your's got into my eye! Dude!)
{Sorry, Ashen. It, like, hurt!}
Ha. As you see, you're really going to have to watch the marks around the speach. If it gets too hard, just tell. I bet I could have guests...
But, we hope you will grow close to OUR family! Just so you know, we don't swear, hurt peoples feelings, use others ideas, OR be critical of other's faith. As long as you LOVE fantasy and day dreaming, WELCOME!
But, if you need a more serious blog, you can go to:
Where we have Kiera a.k.a., lady edit, as our host. But beware, she might make us do an appearace on her blog!
(HEY! the contract never said that! You can't do that! She can't do that!)
Yes, I caaannnn!
{Like, what? I think I, like, missed something. Are we, like, going to die? Ah! My nail chipped! Like, shoot!}
Oh, goodness! Enough with the LIKES!!!

Well, we're headed out!
Ashen, Everston, Litta, and Emnia Elf