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Saturday, November 22, 2014

I wrote a poem...

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So I'm not sure whether its that great a poem, but I quite like it so yeah. I thought it was a nice way of putting it, really. Its just my personal feelings talking here so if you don't like it, please just leave it be - it took ages to make it rhyme!

The way I like to look at her
Feels different to a friend
The way my tummy flips
Confuses me no end

I love her freckled nose
And I'd like to kiss
Her smile
But when she gets close I want to run a mile

Some say it's not normal
For a girl to feel this way
But now I decided
They can deal with it today

I cannot live these lies!
But I see your judging eyes
Why should it matter that
I like girls and I like guys?

Ladies and gentlemen,
Boys and girls,
What's the big deal
If there's love in this world?

Too long we have judged,
But today I'm proud to say
I'm me (and I'm bi)

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Hi guys!

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Hi everyone! I've been thinking of making Wattpad for a while now, and I have finally done it! Here's the link to my profile page: . I do a mixture of books, short stories, and poetry. I have also created a book called "25 Flaws in the Harry Potter  books," as well as a guide to help with making Warrior cat names.

And here's some end of summer photography1 Peace out!

Saturday, July 19, 2014


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I can't believe that I've neglected to post for so long.... So here's the first part of my prologue, of a book that I'm writing called Dawn's End. Here's the cover that took forever for me to create, until I was finally satisfied.


The room swirled with so much color that she supposed the world would never stop spinning.
            A thousand faces whirled around the intricate pattern of tables set with roses, and her cheek was cast under the shadow of an orange marigold, its petals beginning to wilt. The ceiling flourished with images sketched with grandeur, and it was adorned by a silver forest seething with lithe creatures, all enchanted to move on their own. A deer paused to observe the ceremony before prancing into the painted dawn. Shimmering gowns skimmed the floor as women shifted in their seats, completely absorbed in tonight’s atmosphere, half-moons of pleasure etched on their lips.
            She sat alone, her once proudly loose hair swept into fiery locks, fingers nervously pressing the folds of her dress. Her furtive eyes grazed the entrance every so often, but she was disappointed by the guard leaning on the pillar. His cool gaze met hers and she anxiously looked away. She cast her face downward, struggling to contain her worries and to disguise a disturbing trait that had haunted her since birth: her eyes changed color depending on her mood. She stifled a sigh as her mismatched irises – one sapphire, one violet – were already fading into gray.
The girl of sixteen was as contradictory as a raindrop seated within a flame; her angular face contrasted with the soft ribbons of her gown, while the fringed lashes of her eyes conflicted with the rogue nature of her chin. She glanced away from the sea of tables and peered down at her plate. A face surveyed her, possessing a pale completion and a prominent sharp nose, and swift darting eyes calmed with azure eyeliner. Her usually hollow cheeks were blushed with amber, and her harsh eyebrows had been carved into gentler curves, but nothing could ever mask her bitter stare.
            Dancing lights encircled by glossy berries cast an inviting glimmer across the tabletop. A luminescent pond created artfully with a few flowers, apples, and floating candles added movement to the coming night. The soft glow on smiling faces resonated with the layered, textured accents, while the sound of a hundred voices speaking in unison clashed with the music of a fountain. Fine floral wires swung erratically from ivory columns and draped over vacant seats, curling themselves into a clinging web where songbirds resided.
            Her mind drifted away from the subtle splendor to the memory of turquoise waters and golden sands, and to a small face frozen in time. “You can’t fail,” she had whispered. “Not when the world is about to turn. I’ll wait for you… wait until the third child returns.”
            But he wasn’t a child. He never was. And the world was already turning, beyond anyone’s control.
            She sent her hair cascading over her shoulder before regarding the stars beyond the pale horizon. Just like her, they were forlorn and utterly alone, hovering in an unyielding night. If one fell no one would ever notice, for it was only one shard of light among thousands – or millions – of others. She thought about how far they had come, and wondered when everything unraveled if it would be the silent death of the trivial flower, or the cosmic destruction of the tenacious flame. Her promise to Rigel meant nothing if their strength dwindled in the final stand, or if others suffered because of their feeble victory. They lost before they ever won.
            The foreign chatter of the evening’s guests suddenly dissolved into applause, and she lifted her head as a painfully familiar figure entered into their midst. Her steady breathing was punctured by a gasp. He had finally returned.
He was almost unrecognizable, with a charismatic demeanor and a suit that echoed his pristine smile. As he greeted the crowd she had to remind herself that his secret sinister personality had never changed, nor had the darkness in his eyes ever been quenched. Yet never before did he look so sure of himself; his confidence was out of place, and almost unnerving, for someone who was a stranger here just as she was.
            As he sent a blinding grin out to the left section he suddenly noticed her, sitting under a curtain of dappling green. Their eyes locked for an instant. His smile slipped away and she stared back, unafraid, until he resumed addressing the multitude of guests. While he approached she pretended to be transfixed by a blossom, touching its frail foliage as she peeked up again. His back was now turned to her. He was speaking to an elderly man in Kutorian, a language that she only half-understood.
            “It’s a pleasure, Leo….Do tell….Plans and….So surprised you came,” the other man remarked.
            “If time permits…soon,” Leo responded.
            She was about to turn when he spun around and sat down at her table. Girls waved from across the room, inviting him to speak with them instead, but he declined with a shake of the head. Several people were staring at her with interest, and even hostility, but they gradually looked away.
            “Enjoying yourself, Zoe?”
            She was caught off guard by his sudden question. She searched for an appropriate response but only seized the truth. “No,” she spat out defiantly.
            He was amused. “Why not?”
            She feigned interest in the marigold once more, and then examined the russet tapestry above her. The forest scene was morphing into a chaos of beauty.
            “Yes, they put in a lot of effort, didn’t they?” he mused. “But I’m not interested in the ceiling, Zoemeria.”
            She winced when he pronounced her full name, for no one, not even her closest friends had ever dared call her that. Her irises flared into a seething scarlet. “What’s with this new popularity? From what I remember, you always have been cynical, too afraid to trust anyone, even yourself. But now… Leo the crowd pleaser, Leo the gentleman? When you have always been an outcast?” she mocked. It was making him angry but she didn’t care.
            He smiled, a forced grin enfolding on his lips. “That’s none of your business,” he whispered.
            “Yes, it is, because it involves all of us. When was the last time that you tried acting human, Leo? Trust me, it doesn’t hurt.”

          “Human?” he laughed. “You too, have changed I see. I don’t recall you ever being so hysterical.”
            Zoe clenched her fist, letting her nails bite into her palm. “We once trusted you. What happened to the three of us, fighting for our lives together? Why won’t you listen now?”
            As an answer, he flashed his famous smile. His pupils darkened, becoming blacker than an abyss, and Zoe vaguely felt her fingertips cooling. If her eyes were merely an annoyance, then his were fatal. “Look at me, Zoe,” he hissed, “and tell me where you were hiding all this time.”
            She couldn’t look at him. She knew better not to, and continued staring at a candle flame until blots engulfed her vision. “Well, I –”
            “Zoe?” he said dangerously.
            She glanced up, propelled by the venom in his voice, and as soon as she gazed into the inferno of his pupils reality shattered. The room slid into oblivion as icy winds consumed her mind, and yet she could not look away. With a flash of panic, she realized that he had been practicing. How often… every day? Every hour? But it was already too late for her.
            Even as the warm smell of cider lingered just beyond the darkness, tantalizingly sweet, the world was melting. Zoe was drawn deeper into a landscape of stony frost, colder than a glacial sea but more insubstantial than smoke. Black flames were disintegrating her and spinning faster than the billowing wick from before. The chill was scraping inside her lungs and with each breath her mind was shutting down. Fire…
            Swimming spots still obscured her eyes, clouds of fainter gray on a tapestry of night. As they drifted upwards, little specks of light surfaced around them until a patch of darkness shattered. Seizing this chance, she labored to tilt them ever so slightly until they blotted out the illusion. The vicious gales faded when she confronted the radiance from the hall.
            Zoe snapped out of the vision, continuing to drift through freezing air even as cheery candlelight flickered on her face. Other than the distant chatter, everything was still and silent. She cautiously opened her eyes and they took in Leo’s empty chair. When did he leave? Suspicion gripped her and she spun around, anticipating another attack. No. He was gone. She scanned the tables, finding him in the front alongside a girl who seemed vaguely familiar. She had straight black hair that spilled down to her waist, and a long, regal face that was marred by a cold smile. Zoe frowned, sifting through her memories and coming up with nothing.
            She wore a golden gown that flowed over her with the ease of a gauzy willow, which was covered with gems. She was tall and beautiful, and her eyes were brutally calculating. She looked away from Leo to reach at her bracelet that had gone astray.
The girl suddenly turned around and caught the girl staring. The intensity of her hatred sent Zoe a shiver that she could not suppress, and while she doubted that the girl could do her any harm like Leo did, she decided to look safely away. Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe caught her smirking.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

My Poems

Too Late

What once was silver and gold
Is now just plain old rust

I look to the sky
But all I see are clouds all grey and heavy 
Ready to burst 

I look at the papers I once kept
But now they are nothing but scraps and dust

I look to you and see you are no longer 
Who you once were

I realize now that I was too late
I’m too late 
Just too late!


Freedom is flying
And daring to fall.

Freedom is being able to go
Wherever you may want

Freedom is souring
Being able to search

Being able to run and jump
And being able to look, soar and search

Freedom is being able to be who you are 
And allows you to follow your true deep down dreams 
That are in your heart

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Life In the Orphanage of Doom ( Short Story)

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A floorboard creaks noisily as I make my way along the dark hallway. Startled, I pause, hoping and praying that the sound won't wake Madam. If she were to discover me out of bed, I'd get the cane again for sure. Madam, is our Matron, but she makes us call her Madam, out of respect.
There is no sound of stirring coming from her bedroom so I continue my tiptoeing down the hall... The floor changes from wooden to cold marble floor as I enter the store-room where the back door is. I'm running away... and I'm never coming back. I slump my back pack on my shoulder and head out the back door of the orphanage where i have been living for the last one and a half years.
Goodbye prison... hello freedom....
The crisp night air smells of smoke, probably from one of the gypsies' camp fires in the nearby woods. I inhale this air slowly, and it feels as if I am taking my first sip of freedom. I grin despite myself. This is the start of a new life.
A sudden noise makes me jump. I crouch down low on the dew-covered grass of the orphanage's garden and peer over the small rose bush. A familiar silhouette is walking slowly up the path that leads to the orphanage. Madam.
I hold my breath. What is Madam doing outside at this late hour? I watch her toddle up the path. She stops, at the fountain where the paths separates into two. One goes to the back door where I escaped earlier and the other to the main door.
Madam takes the back door one. I feel a pang of surprise and my curiosity grows bigger as she enters the gardener's shed. She goes in and I hear a man's voice, a jolly one ringing out clearly in the silent night. I also hear laughter. I smile again. Madam's got a beau.
I decide to leave my hiding place. The thorns of the rose bush are pricking me and my knees ache from crouching down. I stand up and quietly walk down the garden to the gate. I reach the gate and open it carefully so that it won't squeak.
On our visits to town, me and the other orphan girls would dare each other to make it creak the loudest, just to provoke Madam's annoyance. I was always the one who was the best in this game. I had courage the others admired, the courage to continue my miserable life when my parents died, the courage to endure Madam's painful canings... I stare at the gate again and I manage to open it silently. I step outside of the garden, heart pounding. This is it. I've done it. i've left the orphanage forever. I turn back and gaze at the grey-brick orphanage. I'll never see it again. As I stand there, gazing at it, a hand falls on my shoulder. I turn around and gasp. It is the headmistress of the orphanage. 

The headmistress looks down at me with angry eyes and drags be back towards the building by the ear. It hurt! Seriously, adults are so mean. They are meaner than the bullies. I don't understand why they always are around to catch me when  try and run away. This is my 3rd attempt and i've failed yet again. The adults in this prison hate me anyway, so why do they always drag me back. I'd think they would be glad to see me go. I'll never understand grown ups. 
We were in the orphanage again now and the headmistress finally spoke. 
"Now young lady, you'll go back to bed and tomorrow come down to my office before breakfast and you'll get a good talking to. Now march!"
I ran off to my room still with my bag over my shoulder. I may have got caught this time but next time i won't. I'll make sure of that. Maybe i'll also take Maggie, my best friend with me. I don't know why i didn't before. Maggie is my age and she is more like a sister than a friend, she's my closest and loyal friend. Next time i try run away i'm taking my dear Maggie with me. 
And next time i won't get caught!
Today's Monday. I just got up and remembered i had to go down to the headmistress's office. I sighed and got out of bed. I quickly washed and got dressed. Then I brushed my teeth and headed downstairs. My heart was thumping and it felt it would burst any minute but i pretended that i wasn't scared. These adults in this orphanange like it when we get scared they get even meaner and tougher. They are not nice at all. I think that if the others weren't so scared of the adults that every single child in the orphanage would try and run away. Now that would be a sight! I was now at the headmistresses's office. I sighed and knocked. 
"Come in!" said a sharp pierce voice. I took a deep breath and went into the large room. The headmistress was sitting at her desk holding some papers. She looked up when i came over to her desk and layer the papers on the desk, upside down so i wouldn't be able to see what was on them. She smiled her awful grin. We orphans call this grin the witch's snarl. Our headmistress is actually just like a witch. The worst witch ever!
"Sit down child!" said the orphanage witch.
I sat down and looked up at the adult sitting opposite me. 
"Why were you outside so late?" the witch asked.
"I was getting some air." i replied, calmly.
"With your bag?" the witch asked, sharply.
" What bag?" i replied. I was feeling daring. I knew i was going to get told off. 
"I know you had a bag. Now your punishment?" the headmistress witch said, opening one of her desk draws. 
She took out a think book. Her punishment book. There was a list of punishments for everything. A punishment for not saying thank you, a punishment for laughing in class, a punishment for dropping clean sheets, a punishment for trying to run away and getting caught, a punishment for being awake late at night. There was a punishment for almost everything. 
I gulped when she layed the book in front of her on the desk. But i did not show fear on my face. I got a lot of punishments… we all did. 
The witch of the school ran a finger down a list of punishments on a page and then looked up and grinned. 
"You will have three punishments, my dear." she said, with her witch-grin all over her face. 
I smiled back and nodded. Inside i felt sick and jumbled up. I felt like i was on a roller coaster. 
"Your first punishment is to clean the corridor from outside your dorm and down the stairs to the back door. Your second punishment is to not go into town wight the other girls for the next four weeks and the last punishment is to do extra homework after class for the next seven weeks. I hope you are glad with those punishments. Now you may go!"
I nodded at the evil orphanage witch and headed out the door and down the hall to the breakfast room where everyone had started to eat.
"Why are you late?" asked Madam, sternly. 
I was about to explain when she pulled out her own mini book of punishments. All teachers and Matrons and every other adult had a punishment book. I stared at her as she flipped through the pages. 
I started to explain but she looked up at me and told me to SHUT UP!
I looked around at the the other girls at this particular table. I sighed and sat down. 
"Your punishment is not to have desert for the rest of the week… in fact nothing sweet for the rest of the month!" Madam said.
I felt like crying. I had four punishments in one day. I hate being an orphan.
"But i already have three other punishments." i told Madam.
She scowled at me and opened her book again. I sighed. 
"Do you want another punishment?" she asked.
"No." i mumbled.
"Ok. Then you have four punishments. If you say anything more about it then you will get another." Madam snarled. 
She was the second witch of this orphanage.
That breakfast was terrible. I was not allowed jam or anything else sweet. And it had to be like this for the rest of the month. 
I'm going to run away again now for sure. I can't live another day with punishments like this. I have to come up with a plan. And i'm taking my friends with me, this time. And we can't get caught!

Saturday, March 15, 2014

New Blog!

So, I figured that it has been a long time since I've last posted...which was about my poetry obsession. Well, this one, in contrast, will be short and sweet. May I introduce you to my new, personal blog? No.


Please note that this is my personal blog in which I express myself. If you don't agree with me in what I say there, that's fine. It really is. But please, let's keep this polite civility, m'kay? xP

And again, MaidenStar, signing out--until next time! ^^

Monday, March 10, 2014

The City of Keys: Prologue

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          The wind spiraled as he scaled the apartment building. His jacket swept through the air as he struggled to stay balanced, his feet suddenly landing on the fifth floor ledge. "Twelve!" he screamed. "I can't reach you!"

          She turned, surprised. Her eyes were wide. "What are you -?”

          A flash of feathers and bronze launched at her head.

          Twelve braced herself as the eagle threw another attack. Above them the sky boiled with the incoming snow and the wind climaxed into a gale, slamming into his face with freezing brutality. He managed to glimpse her lunging silhouette before the blizzard drifted in. Charlie was plunged into swirling white blindness, desperately clinging to the brick wall and straining to see Twelve. The night deepened as the battle around him intensified. Traumatized shrieks came to his right, and he considered running before he remembered the sheer fall beneath his shoe tips. He shivered. Senseless fear had just almost killed him. "Twelve!" he called again.

          "She can't hear you."

          Charlie's head spun around, hardly believing his luck. A cadet had broken through the Blockade. In his eagerness he never wondered how the boy could possible stand so calmly above him. Almost as if he was floating.  "Of course she can't! You've got to help me." He glanced down.

          The boy above him didn't reply. Even though the snow concealed his form, his voice was easily recognizable. He had joined his side many times before.

          Charlie frowned. He didn't understand the holdup. "Hey! Twelve's losing! You have to save her - " He looked intently down the chasm, where she had been fighting for her life just a moment ago. Precious seconds were going by, and here he was, stranded on the side of a building.

          "You're acting as if I'm your friend," the newcomer said slowly. "But I'm not. I never was."

          Charlie looked up from the void. He had to be joking. But there was no time for this.

          The snow drifted away momentarily, and Charlie realized there was a knife pointing at his face. Twelve's knife.

          "You know I can't let you live, Charlie." His face was strangely set.

          "What?" This wasn't happening. It just wasn't. "Listen, I don't know what you're doing. But snap out of it! Someone betrayed us, that's why the City's on us - "

          "Oh, I think I know that." He laughed. It sounded so cruel, so unnatural. It couldn't be him. It had to be a mistake.

          He brandished the golden dagger in front of Charlie's eyes, the point intentionally coming close. "I'm the one who betrayed you." He smiled smugly. "Never saw it coming, did you?"

          Charlie stared back. It all came into place. The signs, the disappearances. The marks by the door. It was him all along. And they were all going to die because of this stupid traitor.

          "We're going to fight you," Charlie stammered. "This isn't the end." He reached for his sword, but then remembered that Baila had taken it.

          "It already is," he whispered softly in his ear. He threw Twelve's knife away. It fell into the darkness, its golden light fading away. Charlie already knew what was next.

"So long, loser." The boy pushed him over the edge and Charlie hurtled down the building, disappearing into the snowy streets -

Hurricane Sandy

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Friday, January 31, 2014

Oh no

And then... there was silence.

Where have all the Bloggers gone??

Sunday, December 22, 2013

I'm back!

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Haiii guys!!!!

I'm back and posting again, so I would be grateful if you were to comment on my welcome back post at , because I'm trying to get back into the whole concept of blogging and need everyone's help (:

So don't worry - I'm here now. So please comment away at the link above!

Muchos Gracias!

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Hi again!

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Wow! I can't believe that after all this time, BFJ is still running strong! Great job, everyone -- I'm so proud!
So I'm back again to lamely submit my yearly-ish blog post (aren't I so on top of things). I guess, since it's been so long since I last stopped by, I'll fill you in on some of the big things that have happened in my life. Firstly, I'm going to see the world! The next two years bring the promise of trips to Italy, France, and New York City. I'm so excited, and if I remember, I'll try to write about it. Second, I managed to drink a whole cup of (very milky and sugary) coffee. Then I promptly decided never to do it again. Last of all, I participated in NaNoWriMo 2013, which is a fun, crazy, stressful, hilarious experience. For those of you who don't know what NaNo is, it's a month (November) when you try to write 50k words of your novel. Even if you don't meet the goal (like me), I still recommend all young writers giving it a shot. It's not about whether or not you win -- it's about getting your to write, and then write some more, and then even more.
I figured that, if I were to show my face here again, I probably ought to post something creative, so here's a poem I wrote a while ago about friendship.
I remember her as a curl of golden hair and a smile
When she was young, when we were younger
And I didn’t know who she was, or who she would be.
We forged the first link -- it was shiny and smooth.

A year, one sweet year, sweeter than a sugar crystal.
Her hair was longer, but I was taller
And we both ran and laughed the same.
The link became a chain, with her on one end and me on the other
And only metal in between.

We were ruined by peach fuzz and blue eyes,
And all that was sweet became bitter when I said, “I’ll see you again.”
But I never showed her my tears, tears that flowed
And fell on our chain, which wasn’t so shiny anymore.

Nothing but her memory, a curl of golden hair and a smile
And knowing she was there, but not reaching for her.
The chain slackened and rusted
So I made a new one with somebody else.
It was shiny and smooth.

P.S. Tuesday, I still haven't finished writing Nova. ;( I'm such a bad girl!

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

I Blame My Poetry Obsession on This Book!

So, I've been writing a lot of free verse poetry these past few days. Like a maniac, I would even dare say. It all began from a book I found at the library. I would highly recommend you to read it if you've always wanted to write poetry, but don't know where to start. Lyne encourages you to not try to rhyme, but to just go ahead and put yours words down.

A shocker for you (and for me, as well): In just four days, I've written 103 short poems! But they're just 'poem-sketches', the book will explain what it is. Basically, they're the raw material that still needs the rewriting and refining. :)
[Yes, I do feel quite accomplished, indeed!]

So, here's the book that has gotten me into such a frenzy:

"Writing poetry from the inside out: finding your voice through the craft of poetry"
by Sandford (Sandy) Lyne

I should warn you, though, reading this is dangerous! So be careful! 


And here ends the post of MaidenStar...
Till next time, tot tot, my lovelies!

Wednesday, September 4, 2013


We got 6,666 page views! Isn't it funny how these numbers make themselves coincidences?

Blog for Joy's Lovely Followers

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