Or books you intend not to finish.
my first book
1:Sierra the Luckiest Girl
Sierra was one lucky girl. She was just the right size, she was slender*, and pretty. There were only a few things left. Number 1, that Ingrid, the mean girl, would stop picking on her, number 2, to have a paint set, and lastly,to have a pet. Out of these three things, Sierra longed for a pet the most. Even a purple frog (which she despised*) would do.
One rainy night, Mom had a long phone call with Grandma.
"Uh-huh...Yes...I can't see where we could keep it, though...I won't...What kind?...What?! Those live in the cold!...That's my point!...OK, I'll talk to my husband about it...Anyway..."
That was only the beginning. They talked a long time afterward.
Here's another that I got too depressed I will omit a few parts, OK?
Hermione pulled herself off the mattress in the rag-tag apartment room. Pulling out a few pieces of clothing, she scrambled into the bathroom.
Once dressed, she adjusted her small hoop earrings and sighed. She looked so different from Devin, her twenty-six-year-old “brother.” Devin had dark skin and curly black hair, unlike Hermione’s jet-black hair, tan skin, and almond-shaped eyes.
The girl straightened her jeans and army-green T-shirt, her favorite color. She remembered the stories Devin had told her of when he had found her as a wandering, abandoned two-year-old, when he was fifteen. Eleven years later, he had said, she was as spunky and bright as she was at two.
Hermione shoved a sweat-shirt over her head and hurried into the dining room to get some breakfast. She quickly eyed the room to see if Devin was home. He wasn’t.
“The gang probably needs him,” Hermione grumbled to herself. It happened way too often. She hoped that he was safe. She knew that death and trouble could be anywhere.
Being a street girl, Hermione had seen death several times, starting in the first grade, when on her way to her house, Devin’s friend, a girl called Beverly, was shot and killed. Hermione remembered feeling sick for weeks afterward.
But after several years of suffering, she grew accustomed to it and was not frightened by the sight of it. It still hurt terribly, but she could handle it.
Once she finished eating, she slipped her hand into a bag of sliced bread, avoiding the ends. Then placed some ham and provolone cheese on the slices of bread. Hermione shoved the sandwich and some baby carrots into a paper lunch bag, which she then dropped into her backpack on top of her books.
Hermione started zipping up her backpack when she stopped and smiled. How could she forget? She raced into her closet and pulled out some ballet slippers and a black leotard.
It was faint in her memory, but it was still there, how she had begged Devin to sign her up into ballet, when she was five.
It was one of the things she cared most about. Ballet, Devin, and going to college. It was what she really cared about.
Stuffing the objects into her backpack, Hermione rushed out the door and down the stairs into the Chicago air. She hopped onto her bike and pumped her way to her public school.
“Hello, Hermione Devins,” the receptionist greeted.
Hermione found it annoying how the receptionist always made an effort to greet her, of all people!
Devins wasn’t her real last name. She chuckled, recalling when she was four, how Devin had to fill in the last name for the school registry, and hastily scribbled “Devins,” which stuck. From then on, she was Hermione Devins.
Hermione, trudging down the hall, noticed in the distance a blond boy and a curly red haired girl poking at each other and laughing.
When the kids passed by Hermione, the boy smiled and said, “Morning, Hermione!”
“Morning, Wimp,” Hermione responded to the boy.
Wimp, of course, wasn’t his real name. His real name was Judah Lovelace and his friend was Evie Westcot.
Hermione hated the two. She hated them for their weird religion. But most of all, she hated them because they had such nice lives. Caring parents, nice homes, nice clothing, good food, real joy. Things that Hermione could only dream about having.
Devin always told her to be thankful because it could be worse. “We could be like the crooks on the street,” he always said.
Hermione dodged the glares and mean comments hurled at her as she scampered through the halls into her homeroom. She didn’t like going to school for that reason. Once she had complained to Devin about it and Devin just said, “Hermione, it could be worse. You could be like me. No school. No future. Do your own work well and you can be better than me,”better than running around doing a gang’s dirty work.”
So Hermione worked hard. She was at the top of all her classes, trying to make her dream come true. Going to college and studying neurology. And to make that dream possible, she needed to study hard and work hard.
After enduring another long school day, Hermione eagerly strutted towards the door for ballet class.
“Hermione! Wait up,” someone called after her.
“What’s that,” Hermione swirled to face the person. “Apple?”
Evie chuckled. “Just wondering if you want to go to church with me this Saturday night? It’s not like real church, just some club activity called a Lock In, where you do some activities and sleep-over at the church. It’ll be fun!”
Hermione thought it over for a minute. Although Evie was a loser, she did have to admit that it sounded fun.
Don’t get into this religious stuff, the words Devin had told her echoed in her mind.
Well, the other part of her mind debated. It’s not religious or anything, just some dumb activity!
But Devin said…
“Sure! At what time is it,” Hermione found herself asking.
“Five PM. See you there!” Evie smiled.
Hermione stood there dumbfounded. What did she just do?
Hermione stumbled into the apartment expecting Devin to greet her.
But something seemed wrong.
Sure, Devin was there, but in handcuffs?
And were those men holding him the police?
Hermione screamed, “Devin!!!”
“Hermione,” the young man’s familiar voice held an unfamiliar weakness.
And then she saw it. On the table was a switchblade covered in blood. Devin's grey shirt was spattered with the impossible.
“DEVIN!!!” Hermione collapsed into sobs. “NO!!!”
An officer held her back as the only person she ever loved was taken away.
OK! So post the first chapter (You can delete parts you wish no one to read)!
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Feel The Magic:
“AHHHHH!!” You could hear me scream from the top of my voice that Monday morning. I had the most disturbing dream you could have. It’s the story of our leader, King Casper the 2nd but inside of him being the “star”, I was. I was falling from the sky after being in battle with our greatest enemy, Desperado. Unfortunately, I lost which is exactly what Casper, oh I mean his Majesty did. He failed us. Desperado's magic was too strong for us to compete with. Not that my magic could defeat him anyways. He’s at level ten. I’ve only managed to maintain a level 5. I maintain a B+ average in all my magical studies. This is exactly why I’m so behind in my class in level of Magic. My best friend in the whole world, Alisa would always say to me, “Amelia, I’m your B.F.F.L.E.W.E and I also will be so the best person to tell you this is me. You gotta up your game, sis.” The best student in our class is Vicenza. She’s pretty and smart and amazing. She can be the best friend ever and she can be your worst nightmare. This is why I’ll never have a chance. If the prince happened to stop by looking for some to betroth too I bet he’d pick her. We are all 16, you get your powers at age 12. Maidens are allowed to marry by age 15. Plus, the prince is 17. In about a year he’ll be king. Anyways, I’ve got school today. Not much of a big deal. School is where I get to escape.
I’ve got a lot going on at home. My mom, Julie, dad Bob, big brother Asher, twin sisters Adassa and Hadassa, Aunt Gina, cousins Derek and Duke, Grandpa Leo, Grandma Lauren, and Uncle Bongo. I’ve got to share rooms with my brother. Luckily, he was gone or he would’ve so shouted at me for screaming that morning. Everyone’s always up in my business. My mom says I have potential but every mom says that to her child right? My teachers say it too but I’m sure she’s told everyone that. That’s why sometimes I don’t feel special. At least Alisa makes me feel like something. My twin sisters are 4 years younger than me but they don’t even talk to me really. Asher’s always shouting at me. Sometimes I wonder if we are actually brothers or if secretly he’s Boxster Neutral from my class. Ugh! That dude’s a jerk. Anyways. I got out of bed and ran downstairs. Everyone was seated around the table. My mom passed me my special mug with Hot chocolate in it and I hurriedly sat down to enjoy my favorite meal of chocolate pancakes. I turned around to say good morning to my dad and when I turned back, all my pancakes were gone. Asher struck once again eating all my pancakes in one go. I wanted to electrify him right then and there. Instead, it was like my mind had exploded.
I took up a banana and my mug and I ran upstairs. Dad stared angrily at Asher and mom ran after me. I went into the bathroom and I started to take a bath. “Amelia? Are you ok sweetheart” she asked? Was I ok? No, Asher ate my breakfast. Was it worth it? Nah! “I’m ok!” I said. I came out of the bathroom and I got dressed in my uniform. I brushed my teeth and headed for the door. I was frightened by my Best Friend Alisa and my other two friends, Isaac and Christophe. Isaac and Christophe are best friends. They’re like brothers. The three of them come and pick me up every morning. We’d talk about anything. We trusted each other. They’re the only people I can talk to without getting a lecture. They’re all more advanced than me. They think my mental health is holding me back. It may be true. I don’t really communicate much or socialize with people. But with them, I feel like myself.
Ya, I know, cringe
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