Horror Story 2- Light.

A scream filled the air, at first I didn't realize it, but it was my own.  A whimper escaped my lips, and the pain made the seconds feel like hours.  The pain ebbed and died away just as a light flickered on over the right of me.  Adrenaline swirled through my veins, giving me the strength to crawl to my knees.  That hurt. The pain reminded me of the time when I was six and had jumped from the rafters in the barn, it had been broken then.  I was pretty sure it was broken now too.
         But...  the light.  There was a light now.  A beacon.  I could get home, it wasn't too far away.  It could even mean that Mama's migraine was over.  There was help.  With new determination, I pushed onward to the house.  The lashing rain was a dull buzz now.  Smaller than an annoyance compared to the pain in my ankle.  I focused all my attention to getting to the back door, I didn't even notice the car that had returned in the driveway.  It felt like forever but at last the door was there.  A solid, sturdy old thing that had lived through two generations and such, had gathered almost it's own personality.  My trembling hands fumbled with the smooth handle as it opened it made a old man groan.  Like saying, fine.  Come in and get dry, but don't you even think about trekking that rain water thorough my house, I smiled a little bit at the familiarity of it but then my ankle pulsed in a reminder as to why I was so desperate to get inside.
         "Mama!!"  I yelled dragging my foot in behind me.  "Mama, I need help.  My foot hurts and the cows are missing in the storm!"
         There was a dead ominous silence.  It was a silly thing, silence.  Something you don't put much thought into.  But it was a scary thing too, filled with promises of ugly things that your mind can concur up.  But I was in no mood or shape to hear the warning that the dead house was giving off.
       "Mama?"  I called, this time in confusion.  Even at the most painful, migraines never kept Mama from talking.  If she wanted to talk (which she always did) then she would talk. 
       She's still upstairs, some silly hopeful part of me whispered.  "Mama?"  I called again, feeling a little bit like a lost chick.   
       I dragged myself across the kitchen and to the stairway.  I heard the gentle sobs of someone trying to keep them hidden.  "Mama, are you all right?"
       There was something at the bottom of the stairs.  An unrecognizable lump.  A wet one, too.  Liquid, I was guessing, water pooled around it.  As I drew closer I realized what it was. 
       Not a lump.
      A body.
      Mama's.


How's that for a cliff hanger???  Sorry It's been a while since, I've written anything.  I'm just not in the mood for it so much anymore.  Don't get me wrong.  Writing, I love.  Blogs can get tiresome.  Really, this blog is supposed to be about me, right?  Well, let me tell you one thing.  I get enough of me when I'm not writing.  Plus, the little monkey found a new computer game and has been hogging it every second he can.
      I'll post again soon hopefully.
      Later.

Sunday

Grrr.... Sundays.  I love weekends, really I do.  But Sundays aways are in the middle for me.  Because really there just isn't enough time in the day to do what needs doing.  First, you wake up (or at least you do if you're a teenager) REALLY late because you stayed up all Saturday night then it takes about an hour for you to gather up you senses enough to change into new clothes and shove food into your mouth.  And I always have to go to bed really early, lay in bed for an hour trying to sleep, get up and stall it, wait some more, THEN go to bed.  And in the end, I go to bed round about the same time I do Saturday nights, only it isn't a content murmuring, blissful sleep.  Nope.  Not Sunday nights.  Sunday nights I stress and worry about going back to school until I finally collapse in exhaustion.
ANYWAY, the next half of the story later.  I've been thinking about the cow story a little bit this week and I think the simple stormy Wisconsin story is going to turn into something great.  So, as it turns out there might be a third, even forth, part to the story.  Kay, I'll finish the story later.  But just not today.  I'm too sleepy today.  Or at least that's my excuse.
One more thing, Does anyone care to leave a comment? A compliment or something?  A correction even?  A sassy one-liner, anyone?  Sigh.
My eyes are dropping.  Bye bye.

Horror Stories

The wind whispered warnings in my ear but I didn't pay it any attention.  I had a job to do I couldn't just let the cows go to the mercy of the storm.  Dark ominous clouds thrashed and shuddered as lightning snapped down, eliminating the countryside. 
I toke a deep breath and kept struggling to find the lost herd.  I listened carefully for the deep penetrating moo and watched for the flash of brown and splattered black but my eyes and ears couldn't make out anything besides the roaring thunder and the lashing rain.  I felt desperation swirl deep in my chest, but I shuffled on determinedly.  I stepped tentatively because I didn't want to fall and break my ankle because  knew no one would hear my cries.  No one would come looking either, because Papa was gone with my siblings and Mama having a migraine and couldn't be disturbed.  I doubted Papa knew how bad the storm would be when he left for my cousin's wedding, but he gave me a smile and told me he was confident that I, being the oldest and most responsible, would be fine.  And that the farm had seen worse storms.  He had been wrong.  No one predicted the strength of the storm but now it hit in it's fullest fury.
I stumbled along, wondering if I should turn back and give it up.  Just as I was ready to turn around a sound drifted around the storms howls.  Possibly the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.  Mooing.
  I turned and stumbled towards the sound.  I turned around in circles, expecting to see big brown eyes and a sweet, plump face.   No where.  I was being to think I imagined the sound, until again it came. 
I twisted, following the sound.  
  The ground slipped away under my feet so suddenly that all that came out of my mouth was a strangled yelp.  For a moment I hung suspended in the air then the reality and ground hit me with a bone shattering crunch.  This time a actual scream escaped my throat.  It was drown out by the thunder that shook the ground.   I wondered how long it would be until help came.  If I was going to have to wait the night.  I closed my eyes as the pain flushed.


And THAT is the first part of my Cow Horror Story.  Was it suspenseful?  The beginning was, I think.  The end of that half of the story sort of died down a little bit.  Oh, well.  Can't be perfect ALL the time right?  You know, it's funny, one time we had a guest author come in to talk to us.  It was amazingly cool, it was the author of the books Red Glass, and Starlight.  Mostly it was just cool that we got to meet a author, face to face.  I talked to her and when I told her I wanted to be an author, and she smiled and said, "Cool, what type?"  And I said "I want to write some horror stories and stuff."  And she was like, "What??!! You seemed so bubbly and stuff.  I'm so surprised!"  That's seriously what she said.  It was pretty random.  Do I seem bubbly to you??? I hope not.  That's not really the mode I was trying to portray, y'know?
  Okay, anyway, I'll give you the second half of it later.  Gotta go now.  Later!

Hotwings.

BEST WORD IN THE WORLD?  Fascinating.  So many options to use it in.
BEST FOOD IN THE WORLD?  Hot wings.  They're like the funny mexican guy of the food world.
BEST KNOCK KNOCK JOKE?  HA!!!  Fool!  There IS none!! Knock knock jokes SUCK!!!
Wow, I'm glad I got that off my chest.  I've been feeling so angry tonight, you know??   The little monkey started flinging poo when he came back to the bathroom and the computer game he was on was completely gone and I was playing Tetris.  Apparently he was about to beat thousand something record or something.
Oopsy-daisy.
So he kicked me in the head, the little jerk-face.  I mean, naturally I punched his leg (hard) and we started screeching in fury and wrestling it out.  It was at that moment that the Bear decided to wake up from her slumber.
SAFETY TIP:  Don't poke the sleeping bear.
My little rumble with the monkey man ended pretty quick but I'm still feeling pretty hyped up on adrenaline.  When people use the saying "High on life" do you think they mean it literally???
Is there something that those people know that we don't?  Is there a way to literally get high on life? Hmmm...
Government secrets maybe?
 Or is it just one of those "secrets of life" thingys?
I hope not.  I'd rather have a government scandal.
Catch ya later alligator!!! (Or whatever you are)

Monkeys. Bears. Cranes. Leopards.

Aren't monkeys so cute?  They're like a mix of fluffy little puppy/kitties and babies.  Fluffythingys/babies.  No wonder people love them.  SOO CUTE!!  Sometimes my brother Drew remind me of a monkey.  Sweet innocent little fluffy baby one moment, then throwing poop and screeching the next.

My Mom's the bear.  You ever seen one of those nature shows with the bears and such??  Where it shows great fluffily bears bumbling along, they sort of look like they're grinning sometimes, don't they?  My mom's like that.  The mother bear of the family, which isn't exactly a compliment.  She's ultra strong, impossible to win an arm wrestling match against.  Must come from hauling all those flowers around.

Cal, my other brother, is like a crane.  Really skinny and he has the worst singing voice.  You know how cranes kind of croak when they sing?  My brother's like that, not exactly a bad singing voice but... not good either.  Interesting maybe.  And cranes look like hippies, especially the ones with the the red stripe around it's throat.  Also a bit of a jerk.  Not that that has anything to do with cranes.

Dad's like a leopard.  Quiet, and polite.  Some snide jokes but mostly a quiet and controlled guy.  Except for those rare moments were his temper slips and he yells.  One word.  SCARY!!!  But he's REALLY nice the other 99% percent of time.  I don't know why leopard comes to mind, it just fits.

Me?  Well I don't think I should really be the one to judge that, but it would be a bit unfair to talk about everyone except for me so I'll tell a little about myself.  I have ten fingers and ten toes.  I have a bunch of blankets on me right now 'cause it's so dang cold out!  I'm watching a show about ducklings, DO NOT ASK!!  Urm, what else... I have anger management issues, although you wouldn't guess it first looking at me.  I'm not the most patient person in the world, I get that from the Bear.

I'll catch you later, my faithful readers!
-blog of awesomeness, this is Bryn.  Signing off.
(I got that from a dj)

Favorites

Favorite colors.  Favorite game.  Favorite movie.  Favorite song.  There are too many favorites in the world we live in, let's say you start a casual conversation with a kid younger than you, and the first thing you ask is, "What's you favorite (fill in the blank)?"
I don't like to play favorites, I think it's mean and dishonoring for other colors.  Like brown.  How many people do you know who would say their favorite color is brown?  NO ONE!  I feel bad for brown.  It must be so lonely.
Ah, well.
So anyway, normally I wouldn't play favorites but there is just no avoiding it sometimes.  I have one favorite,  Derek Landy.
Period.
That's all I need to say, and all ready you can sense the power and sheer brilliance of it already.  I love him.  LUVV HIM!!!!  He's awesome.  BEST.  AUTHOR.  EVER.
My favorite definitely.
I love him with every ounce of my being in a totally non-weird, non-stalkerish way.
He wrote the Skulduggery Pleasant series, the most hilarious book in the WORLD!!!!
Now you know.

Movies and Murder

I'm watching the oldest, cheesiest, movie in history.  Well, arguably.  There are tons of old bad movies out there, all from the same time period.  Makes you wonder what all the types of pain and suffering the people at that time had to be put through.  My dad loves them.  They're the movies they watched when they were kids or something.  Some scenes are really morbid, like a old man running (well, sort of shuffling) throw a mob of people who were trying to beat him to death with sticks.  Really.  Where do people come up with this???

  You know I heard a theory from someone that the reason for all these school shootings and stuff is because of all the violence in our culture and music.  And to some point, I agree.  The great thing about the violence nowadays is that all the popular musicians (Eminem, Lady Gaga, etc.) are just better looking than all the violence inspiring things back then.  So props to us new generationers.  :)

My brother is hiding way in the basement right now and he's pretty much why I'm in such a bad mood.  Could you have guessed I was in a bad mood?  I think you should have; the whole topic of violence in generations isn't the happiest.

But I'm so totally moving past that.  Not even thinking about violence of any kind.  Definitely not beating my brother with a large stick.

Nope.  Definitely not that.  After all, if I beat him with a stick whenever I got mad at him; we might have stains on our carpet CONSTANTLY.

And no one wants that.

The bill for cleaning it would be huge.

So I must fight down this urge to kill my older (and yet far stupider and grumpier) brother with every ounce of willpower that I have.

If I did kill him, however, I just have to wonder if I would get caught.  After all, who would suspect the younger and more innocent daughter to a be a murderer?  Not that I AM a murderer.  Keep in mind this is all theoretically.

If I were to say, go down there and offer him a poisoned apple (which I promise you, I do NOT own one) and, of course, the being the nasty and ungrateful brother that he is he would glare at me, say no, and I would tell him that it was poisoned and apple, and just to prove me wrong; he would eat it.

And thus, he would be dead and I would be so much happier.

Sadly this is all hypothetical, and poisoned apples only exist in fairy tales.

As the devil would say, Alas.

(If you're reading this Cal, don't freak out.  I never actually planned to poison you.  I planned to strangle you in your sleep which is a TOTALLY different story.)

:)