Something that didn't work yesterday

the computer went mad yesterday, so here it is today:

The Battle Surrendered

Part Five

Storyteller SilverLoom

     The shadow creatures were back.

     Again they pulled at me with their freezing hands. I cried out, “No!” and tried to stand, but they kept me firmly fixed to the ground. I looked around for Jesus, but the shadow creatures surrounded me and blocked my view of Him.

      Suddenly, there was that same dizzying light. The same feeling of stupor. The same urge to give in.

     No! I willed myself to fight back. I felt that I couldn’t fail again. I couldn’t let myself give in.

     But the shadow creatures did not let me go, and I couldn’t tear myself from them. I wondered if I really wanted to. Was that prison so bad? Were the chains so heavy? And Jesus would rescue me as soon as I asked Him to. He was nice like that.

     The intoxicating aura of false peace washed over me, irresistible. The creature leaned over and whispered, “Followmeee….”

     I don’t even remember the first step this time. All I know is that I found myself starting awake, once again, in the prison tower with the vague recollection that I had chained myself there.

     I had never thought I would fall into the same trap. If it had been horrible the first time I failed, it was double the horror now.

     And then I thought of Him. I’d let Him down. And that was the greatest heartbreak of all. How could I have ever thought He would rescue me again? And even if He did, how could I face Him?

     My shame overwhelmed me. My guilt was heavier than my shackles. I mourned and moaned in the tower for days. No one came, which only made my sorrow deepen, until it was so deep I felt like I could drown in it.

     I was hungry, thirsty, tired, and cold. It was the closest to death I had ever been.

     Finally, just when I thought I would burst from the pain, I did the only thing left to be done. I cried out for help.

     “God,” I whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please… help me. I’ll die without You.”

     I cried myself to sleep.


I think I might do two today, else it's a very sssssssllllllllllooooooooooowwwwwww businesss 

Part Four

and a belated four

The Battle Surrendered

Part Four

Storyteller SilverLoom

     He shouldered the coiled rope and strode into the forest.

     I scurried after Him, calling, “Wait! Where are we going?”

     “Follow me.”

     I halted. “Did You just quote Yourself?”

     Thankfully, He understood my sense of humor and laughed. “Yes, I tend to do that. It makes it easier for people to see things the way I do.”

     “And that’s supposed to mean…?” I asked as I again hurried to keep up with Him.

     “That I never change. I am the same at this moment as I was two-thousand years ago, and as I was at the creation of the universe. Today, tomorrow, and yesterday, I remain the same. And so I can quote Myself in everything.”

     We continued walking. And walking. And… walking. The forest floor was uncommonly free of debris, and a soft carpet of moss covered the earth, much to the glee of my bare feet. But after several hours of walking, and walking, and… walking, I finally said, “Ok, don’t get me wrong. I want to follow You wherever You go. But can You give me some clue as to where we’re headed? Please?”

     “We are going home,” Jesus replied.

     I gasped audibly, feeling both excitement and fear. He took one look at my face and cracked up. “No, dear heart! I mean your house. It’s not your time yet.”

     “Oh,” I said. Then I saw the funny side of it and laughed along with Him. After a few minutes, it finally occurred to me what He had said. “Hey! Why are You taking me back home? You said You were going to train me!” I cried.

     “No worries,” He replied. “We won’t arrive until you’re trained.”

     It took me a while to try to sort that out. “So… You’ll be training me on the way?”

     “Yes. We won’t get there until you’re trained.”

     “Oh, ok. Gotcha.” Little did I suspect that I had no clue what He meant.

     We walked some more. And walked. And… well, you know. But it wasn’t as boring as it sounded. The forest was beautiful and peaceful, and I was walking beside the Prince of Peace.

     Presently, Jesus remarked, “We’ll stop here and make camp. We’ll continue your training in the morning.”

     I can’t deny that I gave Him a funny glance. Continue? I wasn’t aware that we had started. I hadn’t even touched a sword or a bow yet!

     He stripped the lower branches off some nearby trees and soon had a small fire going. We ate bread and drank water that came from the pack He carried on His back.

     We slept on the soft moss under some light blankets from Jesus’s pack. The weather was perfect. I didn’t feel cold until early in the morning.

     Shivering, I pulled the blanket more tightly around me. My eyelids fluttered for just a second, but what I saw in that moment made me sit up and scream.

     The shadow creatures were back.

Well how 'bout that?

Believable

To make a good story you have to make it believable.
You can not have the goody pushing through a crowd of screaming people, the people screaming because he is carrying a gun, and have the bady not notice.You CAN NOT!!!
If you want it realistic, if you want the characters come to life, you hhhaaaavvvee [have] to make it believable, I cannot stress that enough.  


Everything must be real or else it is boring.

This doesn't mean you can't have make-believe characters, fairys and such.Or miracles

Characters need to stay true to themselves: to do only what they can humanly  do

I can't really explain this any more except make it believable!!!

Miss Tiffany

A Name

More character-ness ; )

Names.

They are *so* important. For writing they are very... useful, but also very annoying.
Your character must have a name that suits him/her- that is very annoying
e.g you don't call a strict teacher a soft floaty name like, Charlotte, it doesn't suit, but Augusta might.

This is way baby name books/sites are very helpful as they tell you the meaning as well, as in if you're looking for a name for your fat, pigish rich old man[who has probably lived in the English court] you could call him Gulliver, because it's English and it means glutton [I have Mr Hurst in mind right now]
  - ;D

This means you must already have a rough idea as to what your character looks like and behaves
this is why I don't usely fill the name in first or haven't found my favourite name.

Well that was quite short I'll do another post I think

Miss Tiffany