Presenting Our New Idea!

Okay! We're going to try something new, and we're both really excited about it!
I've explained before what a Creative Writing assignment is. But lemme do it one more time:

"When I say Creative Writing, I mean the homeschool exercise my mother has us do (though not recently). She collects interesting or odd pictures as she surfs the internet and then emails them to us. Our assignment is to look at it, then spend fifteen minutes writing a story about it, without worrying about spelling or grammar, just write. Kind of like a mini NaNoWriMo."

Now then. If you were to go to this Pinterest board you might just find a collection of 52 pictures that are all numbered. IF perchance you were to pick one of the more interesting pictures out and were to comment that you found number __ to look awesome, we would most likely, in all probability, definitely use it for a Creative Writing session. 

Because, honestly, it just doesn't work well to assign yourself CW pictures. So we are asking that you do it for us. And really, all you have to do is pick a cool picture and you'll get a short story on it. (Or maybe a long one, depending on how interested we are in the story.) How awesome is that?!

So. Go pick one!

-Trinity and Hannah

Changelings - Part Eight

Normally, I'd wait a bit longer before posting the next part, but I'm excited to get to that new thing I told you about! :D
I now present to you the eighth and final part of Changelings. (Final for now.)

Part 8 -

The continued Tale of the Half-Changed – As recorded by Oren Fleethoof:

The eve of their departure, the leader of the settlement, whose name was Corag, insisted they stay long enough for a village wide farewell festival.

“There will be dancing and singing and food like you've never seen!” He told them.

Talon sneered, showing his fang-like teeth. Corag tried not to cringe. Oren Fleethoof and his friend Terra Redtail seemed nice enough, but this... Talon Silver... seemed slightly, well, wrong somehow. There was just something about him that didn't sit right with Corag.

“We would be glad to come.” Oren said graciously.

As Corag left, Talon growled something under his breath and Terra, who had heard what he said, punched his shoulder.

In a flash, he grabbed her wrist and snarled, “Never strike me!”

Terra wrenched her arm away and glared at him in disgust.

Oren frowned at him as well. “That was unnecessary, Talon.”

Talon's irises were gold-tinted, but the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. “Maybe you don't realize what truly is necessary, Oren Fleethoof.”

With that cryptic remark, he strode away.

“Something's wrong with him, Oren.” Terra said quietly.

“I know.” Oren gazed after Talon thoughtfully. “I just can't figure out what.”

That night, true to their word, the settlers threw the largest party the changelings had ever seen. The dancing was spectacular, the singing was superb, and the food delectable. The only thing missing, Oren and Terra slowly realized, was Talon. Corag noticed too, but honestly, he didn't really mind.

“It's so rude!” Terra hissed to Oren. “He should be here. He doesn't have to dance if he doesn't want to, but he should at least make an appearance.”

Oren agreed. “But where could he be?”

Terra thought hard, then said, “The clock tower. That's where he is. He wants to see the inside of the clock before we go.”

“You're right.” Oren got up and excused himself to Corag. Then he went to find Talon.

Sure enough, Talon was sitting in the clock tower, staring at the gears as though mesmerized.

“Talon!” Oren called, coming in the door at the bottom of the tower. He couldn't see Talon yet.

“We were to attend the celebration, not brood away the night in a dark tower.”

“Have you ever tried brooding, Oren?” Talon's voice was deceptively calm, not coming from any definite direction. “It does wonders for clearing the mind.”

“If you wanted to brood, why didn't you stay home and do it in your cave then?” Oren returned.

Talon let out a barking laugh. “There's nothing there for us changelings. I see the possibilities here and I must brood on them.”

Oren began to climb the stairs that wound up around the inside of the clock tower. “I've seen the possibilities as well. We must take word of them back to the colony. We could be so advanced!”

Talon laughed again. “Then you've obviously not seen the possibilities. We can do more than bring word. We can bring the inventions themselves.”

Oren searched for Talon's form in the darkness. “No! Have you taken leave of your senses!? We can't just take what these settlers have worked so hard on!”

“What you're saying is, we shouldn't. There's not question whether or not we can.”

Sighing, Oren said, “Come on, Talon. We have to get back to the celebration. You can discuss your ideas with the Council when we get home.”

“You're practically on the Council!” Talon snapped. “You know what they'll say.”

“Yes, I do!” Oren roared, finally losing his temper. “You will come out of your hiding place and come with me now, Talon Silver!"

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!
-Trinity

Changelings - Part Seven

And heeeeere's part seven!! There's only one part left, but fear not! I believe I have come up with a cool new idea for getting posts up. Involving the readers! :D It should be awesome.

But for now, enjoy!

The continued Tale of the Half-Changed – As recorded by Oren Fleethoof:

All in all, it was not as comfortable as humanly, (or changlingly), possible, but they made it suffice, and most lived there quite contentedly.

The exception was Talon Silver. His change of choice was a wolf. A massive silver wolf with huge paws, long fangs, and sharp claws. He rarely left the colony, much less his cave. It was twice to three times as large as the burrows or caves of everyone else, and was solid rock the whole way through. It had taken him many months to carve it out in the form of a badger, and had ground his digging claws down to the quick time and again. He flatly refused to share it with anyone, and stayed in or nearby almost constantly. One day, as he lay on the stone floor, wolf paws crossed and muzzle resting on them, a small bird alighted in front of him. He had been hunting recently, and so, he wasn't hungry. Instead of snapping it up for a snack, he waited a few moments and then growled softly,

“You realize I could be digesting you right now.”

The bird squeaked in surprise and fluttered a few feet away before chirping in reply, “Are you Talon Silver?”

“I am. What of it?” He asked, only his gold eyes moving to watch the bird.

“I've heard of you.” The bird said, tentatively hopping closer. “They say you're the largest wolf in the world.”

Talon grinned, well, wolfishly, showing his fangs and rows of sharp teeth. “I wouldn't doubt it.”

“They also say that you're... half human.”

Talon closed his eyes thoughtfully. “Perhaps I am.”

“I can't imagine a wolf-human.” The bird chirped, mostly to itself. It shivered, fluffing its' feathers and down. “That would be one of the most terrifying things in the world. Well, good-bye!”

With that, it fluttered off. Birds were known to be flighty. Talon however, thought long and hard about what the bird said. Changelings who could not complete a change were looked down upon as weak, at least by himself. Any changeling could become tired enough to have that happen, but it wasn't often.

A robin alighted on the cliff edge outside his cave, but maintained a careful distance.

“Talon,” It said pompously, “The Changeling Council has been hearing so much about the humans and their newest inventions and constructions, they've decided to send a group to investigate them and would like-”

Talon stood immediately, startling the robin into falling off the cliff edge.

It recovered quickly and and finished from the air, “...would like everyone to come to ground level to choose the group members.”

It flew away to join the growing throng. Talon blinked his golden eyes, then bounded down the cliff side. It was a very long and boring meeting, and Talon very nearly lost his temper, but managed to keep in check long enough to be chosen to go. The one thing he wasn't expecting to hear was that all three chosen changelings would be required to go in human form and stay that way for the whole trip.

They left the next day, the trio flew out of the colony and landed on the ground high above, immediately changing back into their basic forms. There was Terra Redtail, (her form of choice was a red squirrel), Oren Fleethoof (The rare unicorn changeling), and Talon.

Despite just changing from a fowl, Talon bore more resemblance to his wolf form because he spent so much time in it. His hair had a silver sheen to it, his teeth were slightly elongated, and sharper than normal, and his eyes were gold tinged. All in all, he would have looked rather frightening to the average-non-changeling, and in all honesty, even the changelings.

They set off on their journey. It took several long days of traveling. During that time, Talon developed a great disliking for Terra and Oren. The first night he had hunted for them and brought back several large rabbits, only to discover (much to his disgust) that both Oren and Terra had adopted their changeling habits and would not eat meat. Not only that, but he was severely reprimanded for changing at all.

So for the next few days, during mealtimes, Talon would conveniently disappear, and then return a little while later, his eye glinting somewhat wildly. Oren could just barely smell raw meat on him, and every once in a while, Terra thought she spotted blood. When questioned, he insisted he had not changed to his wolf form. It was only much later that Oren discovered this was only partly true. Talon had been experimenting with half-changing, merging his scheming human mind with the instincts of a wolf's in order to catch his prey.

Currently, though, they were oblivious to this. When they finally reached the human settlement, Oren told the settlers their story: That they were from a remote province and had come to confirm the rumors and tales of the settlers advancement. When he put it that way, the leader of the settlement gladly showed them all the workings of their village. The mechanical clock, the irrigation systems, the lighting systems, and a myriad of other clever inventions. Talon was particularly interested in the mechanical clock. For some reason, he seemed to like the gears and chains and levers and spent a long time sitting and watching it work. He didn't seem to care about the purpose of the clock, just its' inner workings. At one point he later told Oren that he almost wished he could change into a squirrel like Terra and scramble over all the fascinating mechanisms.

The last part will be up soon!
Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!
-Trinity

Changelings - Part Six

Haha! Here I am! Just squeaking past the deadline! And I have here with me part six! (Here's where things start get interesting.)



Part Six -

Sabine blinked in surprise and unrolled the top of the scroll enough to see the title. In neat, thick script, it said, “The Tale of the Half-Changed – As recorded by Oren Fleethoof”

“Oh!” She said in surprise. “It was written by Oren!”

Lady Fontaine eyed her coldly. “Of course it was. Did you think I was just making things up?”

“No. I'm sorry.” Sabine said, smiling and bowing gracefully. “Thank you for finding it for me.”

Fontaine ruffled her feathers and answered primly, “You're very welcome. Now, if you're going to read it, you'd better get started. It's certainly not the shortest tale I have here.”

Sabine nodded and slipped away. In one corner of the room, a fireplace crackled, surrounded by fluffy chairs, a soft rug, and a deep couch. Draped across the full length of the couch was a black panther with a book tucked under it's chin, drowsing. Sabine sat on the floor, leaning against the couch. The panther's tail flicked over and curled across her shoulder. She reached up and scratched it's jaw absently. It began to purr, a deep, vibrating rumble.

Sabine unrolled the first ten inches of the scroll and began to read...

The Tale of the Half-Changed – As recorded by Oren Fleethoof

Changelings did not always reside in a comfortable castle as they do now. Once, not so long ago, they lived in a hole. It was miles wide, and really, it was less of a hole than a round cliff surrounding them, but it was far from comfortable, or hospitable. The most fortunate had an actual hut to shelter them from the rain, and that could accommodate them both changed and unchanged. But there were very few such structures. Most were forced to burrow through the rock walls, or if you were especially lucky, you could find a dirt patch, which was much more comfortable. The only way out of their sub-level fortress was a steep, dangerous stairway that curved up the east side. Otherwise, the inhabitants had to change into something with wings and fly out. This was much easier, as, because of the positioning of their colony, the wind that blew overhead would catch on the lip of the cliffs and swirl down and then back up again in the summer, creating a lift that was extraordinarily easy to ride to the top. In the winter, the wind blew in the opposite direction, and the frigid winds rarely disturbed the warm air generated by all the changelings below.

A little shorter than usual, but I got excited when I started writing this part of the story, so the next (last) two parts are a little beefier. 

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass!
-Trinity