First Time Here

Screen Shot 2017-05-19 at 9.04.23 PM.png

Hello, my Hoodians! If this is your first time here, welcome to my blog! I hope you enjoy all the feature posts and past here.

I am always somewhere in my imagination, whether its a real place or a fantasy place. I am passionate about writing and have strong wanderlust. Those two subjects are what this blog is about. If you would like to know more about me, just go to the Me and Myself page.

My art blog is autumnsongsdanielle.blogspot.com. If you love artsy things, you can go check that out!

Once again, thanks for stopping by!

Camp NaNoWriMo Recap/My Project

Hello, Hoodians! I’m here with a short recap of Camp NaNo and what my project is!

IMG_1994

 via

I lost, in case you were wondering. But it’s chill.

I had some awesome cabin mates! Some of them are: Madi, Charis, Sarah, Chloe, Nicole, Josie, and Alyse. I was in the cabin my sister was in 🙂 . It was super fun to roleplay (<3), chat, and sprint with everyone!

My original goal was 30,000 words, but as the month came near to an end and I began to understand I probably would not reach that goal, I lowered it to 20,000. Bu then I lowered it to 18,000 (followed by the pitiful number of 15,000)

IMG_1991

Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Ha.

I technically wrote only five thousand words, but the meter shows higher because I counted from where I left off of NaNoWriMo (the 8000/9000 word range, some was not written during NaNoWriMo, buuut…).

Now that I have shown you my pitiful results, onto explaining my project!

IMG_1992

Don’t try to read it, I’ll post an excerpt and the blurb 😉 .

IMG_1993

(Ignore the corny cover) I chose to (try) to finish my novel, “The Forgotten”.

Le Synopsis:

Zoel, Brent, and Tessa have a problem. For decades, specific people, mainly children, have been wiped from the minds of everyone around them. No one remembers them. They have become known among this group of people, as Forgottens. One day, Zoel finds a notebook in the possession of her enemy/friend/frenimy. The notebook leads them to some of the most dangerous places in the world. There hopes are that this dangerous quest will lead them to be remembered once again. Will they accomplish the hope of being known?

Le Excerpt (aka the entire prologue):

Once upon a time, as they say, there was a boy with an imagination so strong, he could make anything he thought of, real. His name was unknown to many, as he never told anyone and his parents were the only people who knew besides him. But his parents were dead. And no one could do anything about that. Not even this young boy. You might think, why can’t he reimagine them back? Well, he never knew them. He didn’t know what they looked like, what qualities they possessed, and how old they were. They had no place in his mind. Besides, he never felt the need for them.

He called kind women “nice lady” and nice men “kind man”. He ran around his small village freely and hopefully. Everyone was nice in his village, and everyone shared despite their poor conditions. He could go up to the pretzel lady and get a pretzel for a cent he found on the ground. He could go to the apple stall and get some apples for helping to pick them. He was such a happy boy, and he was such a mature child. But we all grow, and that’s what he did. So did his imagination.

One day he was eating a pretzel, wishing he could have some cinnamon sugar on it. He loved cinnamon bread but could seldom get it. He could just see the little grains of sugar and golden dust specks on the pretzel. He could smell the spicy sweet fragrance. He closed his eyes imagining this so loved luxury. He imagined so hard, he thought he could actually smell it from beneath his nose. When he opened his eyes and looked at his still warm pretzel, he had to blink several times. There before him was sugary brown grains sitting on his pretzel. He shook his head and looked at his pretzel again. He hastily bit into it, thinking he must be hallucinating. He wasn’t. And that was very clear when he felt the sweet grains on his tongue. He could taste the sharp bite combined with wonderful sweetness. How? He thought. He knew that before he had closed his eyes it had been a plain pretzel.

The boy closed his eyes again. He thought of a new pair of shoes. He imagined their size, shape, materials, their shininess, and even smell. When he reopened his eyes, sitting before him was a pair of shiny new shoes. He wondered if the other villagers were like this. Could they imagine something and it would be there? When he asked the pretzel lady the ‘hypothetical question’, she merely laughed and said, “We wish. But nobody has an imagination that strong.”

The boy nodded. But he knew she was wrong. Somebody had that though. How could his imagination be so different then others? How could he come up with a perfect understanding and picture of what he wanted, but nobody else could? He pondered upon it. It clashed with reality, and it made no sense.

He kept his little secret to himself for a very long time. But one day the pretzel lady ran out of flour. The boy was sad. Not even he could imagine up such good pretzels. He imagined up a bag of flour. He made sure it was the fluffiest, softest, best flour there could ever be. He even imagined a bag for it to come in. He left it on her doorstep for her to find. He then decided to use his “power” for good only.

But sadly, greed overcame this boy. And, as you know, when somebody is overcome by greed, their heart turns to stone. This boy no longer used his secret for good. He only used it for himself. But with this power, he never accomplished anything great. He only accomplished the bad. He envied those who were greater then him. He was jealous of those who were everything he wasn’t.

The boy, now a young man, one day envied someone else so much; he imagined that they would never be remembered. Ever. From then on, that person was known by no one.

The boy was so overcome by jealousy; he imagined that everyone who was ever what he wasn’t would disappear from everyone’s minds. They would seemingly be wiped away from existence. He would make them suffer in their lonely state. He, for some unknown reason, made them remember each other, but no one else would remember them. And he call them The Forgotten.

Ignore it’s cringiness and typos. I wrote that last year (hint to how long writing this novel is taking me).

I hope you enjoyeed my pitiful results and learning some about my novel 😀 . Have a fabulous day!

P. S. I’m doing Loren’s CWWC! If you want to read my entries, click here or go to the page labeled ‘CWWC’ on the menu bar 😀

 

Haitus and… More Haitus

IMG_1701

Uh, I’ve been gone. And now I will be gone even more. Hehe.

Hello again, my fellow Hoddians! Yes,  have not posted in who knows how long. But y’know, it’s summer. Yes, I am very sorry. I mean to post a whole ton this past month, but that did, erm, not happen.

Soo, now that I’ve apologized, the actual intent of this post is to tell y’all I am going on another hiatus.

IMG_1700

Yeah.

I have a very busy month ahead. July includes the following:

~ Camp NaNoWriMo (help meeeee. I need to wriiiite)

~ Family trip across the West of the U. S. A. (HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY FOR THOSE AMERICANS READING THIS!!! *party horns*)

~ other… stuff. Ok, well the trip takes up more then half the month.

So yeah. Don’t worry though. I will take plenty of photos of the Grand Canyon and all that jazz for my other blog as well as post a recap of Camp NaNoWriMo on this blog. Also, I have taken pictures and planned for plenty of posts, but I’ve haven’t gotten around to writin them (😬).

So please don’t unfollow me. Just thought I would warn you.

I might even post quick lil’ things as the month goes on. Maybe. Who knows.

Thanks for being just plain amazing! Bye for now!

 

Charis Rae Blog Tour!

I wasn’t sure what to title this, so I just wrote the name of the tour. As you probably know, I’m taking part in Grace’s/Charis’s new blog tour! I am too excited, so let’s jump in right away! (just in case you didn’t know, I’ve never done this before, so it’s probably not very good)

Charis included an image we are allowed to use, so here it is!

Screen Shot 2017-06-08 at 1.18.09 PM.png

It’s so pretty!!!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Among many things, Charis is a dreamer, dancer, writer & photographer, blogger, bibliophile, and daughter of the King. She enjoys blogging and is excited to move my her to the next level.

ABOUT CHARIS RAE:

Charis Rae is a self-hosted, more professional version of Charis’s former blog, The Girl Upstairs. After blogging for quite a while, she decided to switch to a more professional platform and share more about herself, her life, and her name. 😉 On Charis Rae, she’s going to be sharing her interests, abilities, and journey through life and blogging, with all of you along for the ride. 

CHARIS’S HOPES FOR CHARIS RAE:

Charis’s hope is that Charis Rae will become just as successful as The Girl Upstairs, but will reach more people, and eventually grow into something beyond her wildest dreams. She’s also excited to “learn the ropes” of self-hosting, coding, and WordPress.org. She can’t wait to see what the future has in store!

I hope y’all are as excited as I am! Make sure to follow the rest of the tour:

 
 
{ June 17 }
 
 
{ June 18 }
 
 
 
 
{ June 19 }
 
 
 
Have a fabulous day, fellow Hoodians!

Wonderlust – a poem by Danielle

Hello again, fellow Hoodians! I have, once again, a poem for y’all. I hope you enjoy it!


Screen Shot 2017-06-12 at 3.50.33 PM

Wanderlust

Here I am and here I stay.

No matter how I want to stray.

I want to leave this same old place.

A place coated with sugar and lace.

Stay here! They call to me,

You haven’t seen all you can see!

I have, I reply with a sharp tone,

There’s nothing in this boring zone.

I want to leave, I want to wander!

See all the many wonders!

Can’t you grasp there’s nothing here?

Nowhere to gape at, nowhere to peer?

I’ll leave someday and satisfy

The constant tug that makes me cry

For places I have never been,

For animals like birds that preen.

Tigers and Elephants everywhere!

Even a small and jumpy hare.

Yes, every moment I have to, I must

Quench all of my Wanderlust.


I hope you enjoyed! Have a fabulous day. 🙂

The Shattered Queen- an instant story

Hey everyone! I haven’t posted for a few days (?), so I decided to write an instant story!!! I sometimes just write a completely out of the blue story for my other blog because I feel like writing. I call them instant stories! So here is one, completely inspired by a random, made up title. Enjoy! (notice: Youtube and Pinterest stops may be made in the midst of writing this)


She was feared, hated,  unloved lonely. For nothing. The Queen, they called her, The Queen of nothing but emptiness. This queen, though, was so much more special then they could ever imagine. And she had yet to prove that.The Queen, you see, was no evil woman. She was a girl. A poor, starved, homeless girl.

***

Mac sat on the side of the road. Her long, dark hair was pulled up in a poofy, tangled bun. Her big green eyes were wide with what seemed like constant shock, though that was how they always were. Her copper skin was dirty, and the same with her tattered burlap dress. She wasn’t incredibly gorgeous, but she was a fairly pretty girl.

She traced words into the sand she sat open, It was the same phrase over and over again. I am a queen, I am a queen, I am a queen. Her thoughts echoed the words, as well. It had become a silent song to herself. She began to hum a little tune to herself, and she soon began to whisper the lyrics.

“Hey, freak.”

Her mouth shut closed, blocking off the melody that was coming out, and her head rose to see a small group of three boys above her. She said nothing to them, but instead went back to writing her chant on the ground. This time she began to quietly mutter the words so the boys could hear her.

The boys laughed. “Still believe your a queen, huh, your majesty?” One taunted. the boys laughed again.

Mac’s chant changed. She then began to write “they are stupid”. Another boy crouched down and read it silently to himself. It took a surprisingly long time, despite the shortness of it. Either he didn’t know how to read, or he was thinking about how true it was. He straightened up and chortled, “I know who the stupid one is here, and it’s not us.” The boys thought this hysterical, and they burst into more fits of laughter.

Mac stood. The boys’ giggles and snorts slowly dissipated. “I am a queen,” said Mac, “and one day you’ll regret every word you ever said to me.” She then turned and walked down the road, her feet kicking up the words she wrote into small clouds of dust. The boys laughter haunted her behind her back, but all she noticed was how immature and annoying they were. She took a deep breath in, and anyone who saw her walk down that road would have to admit she walked like a real queen would.

***

“Mama, can I count the stars?” A younger Mac asked her mother.

Her mother smiled. “Darling, you can do anything if you put your mind to it.”

Mac’s brow furrowed and she formed another comment, “But there are so many!”

“Sweat pea,” Her mother replied, “They stop somewhere. Nothing lasts forever.”

That was one phrase Mac wished was wrong.

***

Mac gazed at the sky. She glared at them as if they had done something unforgivable to her. “Stupid stars,” she muttered, “No, no one can count them. Especially not me.”

She stood up and brush any sand off  of herself. Her eyes started to the small castle on the horizon. The small kingdom of Hindmith had stood for years. The peasants no longer seemed poor, and the aristocrats no longer seemed rich.

Mac sighed and pulled her knees to her chest. A single tear leaked down her cheek as she pulled a small piece of tattered paper from her pocket. It was a drawing, a child’s drawing, of the stars. Mac screamed and threw the drawing as far as it would go.(I got a bit distracted by Pinterest at this point) She stood up jerkily and stomped on the paper until it was torn and dirtier than anything else near Mac.

“I was a queen!” She shouted into the open to no one in particular. “I AM a queen! And you are all to foolish to realize it!”

***

Mac’s mother died the next night. Mac laid in her bed all night sobbing ’till her eyes were red and puffy. Her mother, the queen, was dead, and nothing could be done about it. Which put one large responsibility on Mac’s shoulders. Mac was now queen, and she would rule the strongest kingdom in the world.

***

A crow to kill

A boy to love

A broken  will

A dove high above

Mac continued,

A person here

A world that matters

A king to bear

A queen that shatters.

The verse ended, and Mac sighed. She then repeated it, and again, and again. Finally she stopped. Her path she was walking on led to the castle. She walked up to the doors and motioned to the guards to open it.

“I’m sorry, girl,” One of the guards said,” It’s not open to peasants.” He smirked.

Mac scowled and retorted, “I am not a peasant, and you know that perfectly well, Clavier.

The guard’s eyes widened in surprise. He then turned and motioned to the tower near the gate to open up the metal bars. The gate creaked painfully as it slowly opened. “Oil those hinges,” Mac ordered as she walked through the opening. As she went she could feel the guards eyes bore into the back of her head.

She threw wide open the front hall doors and walked in like she owned the place, which she did. Eyes followed her as she walked right into the throne room and sat on the ruler’s  throne. She turned and said to man dressed in fancy, expensive, and very lavish clothes and threw the tattered drawing she had stomped upon so vigorously. “I’m back,” she said, “Now get out.”

The man studied the drawing skeptically, though as he studied it more his eyebrows sluggishly creeped higher. His head jerked up and faced Mac. He asked, “Where’d you get this?”

Mac narrowed her eyes at him, “I made it, fool. Now get out of my palace.”

She then pulled out her bun and let her heavy hair hang loosely. She brushed her fingers through it.

The regent’s face seemed to grow paler as every moment passed. He then bowed and said, “Forgive me, Queen Melec. I did not recognize you for the moment.”

Mac’s feature’s softened, though one eyebrow raised, “I can tell, Regent Squettle. Don’t call me that and go back to your mansion. I will send you a message if I ever need you, though I doubt I will.”

The regent nodded, and hurriedly scurried out of the throne room as fast as his legs could take him.

Mac smiled regally. It was nice to be in her palace, her throne, her home.

“Marissa!” She called.

 An old lady scurried to the throne. “Your majesty, you’re back! Where have you been all this time! Oh! What would you like- er forgive my manners, my queen!” The maid huffed out,

“Call a kingdom gathering,” Mac said, “I would like to speak to my people, for my mind has healed much over time.”


I hope y’all enjoyed! It wasn’t very good, as it wasn’t planned at all. Bye!

P.S.  Ignore any grammatical errors int he post. I was typing faster than usual.

Emotions – a poem by Danielle

Screen Shot 2017-05-27 at 4.49.45 PM.png

 

Emotions

There is something that’s always inside me.
It likes to hide so none may see
Just how I feel beneath
Because all my emotions bubble and seethe.

Sometimes my eyes grow hot and watery.
The tears come fast though I try to bury
The sob that escape my lips
It seems I always seem to slip

Soon the flowing river stops
I wipe my eyes of salty drops
The twinkle in my eyes return
A smile breaks to sojourn.

An overwhelming feeling fills my soul
As if a key clicked in a keyhole!
It’s a perfect, temporary moment.
Before I know it, it has went.

Something’s sparks inside my mind
A fire is being confined.
It climbs higher till it reaches
It feels like it screeches

I slam my door in absolute fury.
My head feels dizzy and my sight blurry.
I want to shout and throw somethings
It’s such an unpleasant feeling.

Finally, the fizzing anger stops
But one shard remains
A thought of pride and disgust
Is fast filling up my gut

I think I’m better than everything.
I’m to good for that thing
Soon I realize my mistake
We are all equal no matter the thoughts we make

A final emotion still remains,
A scary one, it drives some insane
Catch my silly pun?
It’s true, that one. (Lol, btw this parenthesis isn’t part of the poem)

My breathing grow quick
I feel kinda sick
I want to run away from this,
A nonexistent, dangerous near-miss

 

I hope y’all liked this poem. I didn’t include a whole lot of emotions, but I included the main ones. I believe emotions are very important in our lives, and I wanted to express that.

Screen Shot 2017-05-27 at 5.28.54 PM

P.S. I’ll have a sign-off soon!

Nest by Esther Ehrlich (a book review)

Hey there! Danielle here 🙂 . I hope y’all have had a fabulous day so far! It’s been especially rainy here and I find it soothing and beautiful in a strange way. Today I have a book review which I also posted on my other blog. Here we are!

 

20170580

via

Info And All That Jazz:

Copyright Date: September 9th, 2014

Publisher: Wendy Lamb Books

Author: Esther Ehrlich

Book Blurb: In 1972 home is a cozy nest on Cape Cod for eleven-year-old Naomi “Chirp” Orenstein, her older sister, Rachel; her psychiatrist father; and her dancer mother. But then Chirp’s mom develops symptoms of a serious disease, and everything changes.

Chirp finds comfort in watching her beloved wild birds. She also finds a true friend in Joey, the mysterious boy who lives across the street. Together they create their own private world and come up with the perfect plan: Escape. Adventure. Discovery.

My Thoughts:

It was truly a charming, bittersweet, sad, dreamy, and heartwarming story. The characters were developed in a bland but beautiful way that made you love them. You were able to see clearly the most shown characters, and the less important characters’ existence charmed you.
The style of the author I found relatable, as I write somewhat similarly to it. The words flowed on the page, and her descriptions left you in awe. I loved the way she portrayed the main character. She showed the characters deepest emotions through a strange way (you’ll have to read the book to know this strange way)
The plot was somewhat hard to find, but you figure it out as you read more. It was’t a very hardcore plot, as the book was mainly about emotions in a way. The most exciting events happen in the center and the very end.
I would not suggest this book for anyone under the age of 12, as the middle of it is scary (as in really sad scary) and there is one bad word used a couple of times, Otherwise, it’s clean.

Overall Rating:

Overall I thought it a filling story and would totally suggest it for anyone who loves a sad but lovely story. It would be great for somebody who is looking for new, enriching book as well.

I hope y’all found this helpful. It really was great book. Have a great day, fellow Hoodians!
Continue reading “Nest by Esther Ehrlich (a book review)”

The Balloon (a story)

Hello there, dear Hoodians! Today I have a story for y’all. I already posted this on my other blog, and there was a photo for it but I then wouldn’t save. So here’s is the simple story in its simple beauty.

 

Six-year-old Betty was in the park with her father. Every week on Sunday after church, he would come and spend the day with her. Betty’s father didn’t live with her and her mother, but he made the time to spend with Betty when he could.
“Betty, what do you want to do today?” Her father asked. He looked striking in his church suit.
Betty never knew how to reply to his weekly question. She played with the ruffles of her dress as she thought. She looked up and saw a balloon man holding brightly colored balloons. She asked, “Could I get a balloon?”
Her father looked at the balloon man and smiled. “Of course!” He replied.
Hand in hand they walked to the man with colorful balloons floating above his head.
“Which balloon would you like?” Betty’s father asked.
Betty stared for a moment. A thoughtful expression entered her face, and her brow scrunched up. There were so many choices. Finally she said, “ That big red one at the top.”
Her father turned and pointed it out to the balloon man. “That big red one,” he repeated after Betty.
Betty suddenly noticed a little boy about the same age as her staring. He had tangled mousy brown hair and big blue eyes. He was dressed poorly. He wore old torn up tennis shoes, a dirty green t-shirt, and kaki shorts with holes. He stared longingly at the balloons.
“C’mon Betty,” Her father said handing her the big red balloon. Betty stared at the balloon in awe. All thought of the boy she had seen left without a trace as she took in all of its big red glory. It was so round and shiny, with a bright gold ribbon to secure it.
“Thank you,” She announced, a big smile breaking out on her face.
Her father returned a beam and ruffled her golden curls.
They walked around the park and gazed at the fountains and tall trees. “Can I climb a tree, Daddy?” She once asked.
He frowned playfully and said, “No, I don’t think you can.”
She hung her head sadly.
He laughed, “Of course you can!” Her head rose hopefully. He picked her up and said, “But you don’t want to ruin your nice dress, do you?”
She shook her head fretfully.
“Don’t worry,” He continued, “I’ll take you hear tomorrow, and you can climb trees all day if you want.”

She grinned. “Yes. Daddy, please!”
He laughed and set her back down on the ground. “Now, how about some ice-cream?” He lowered his voice, “Now what would Miss Betty like?” He held out an imaginary microphone to Betty.
Betty giggled. “Raspberry chocolate chunk.”
Her father brought the imaginary microphone to himself. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” He said, “Miss Betty has decided upon raspberry chocolate chunk. Now, what does Mr. Crocker want?” The microphone went back to her.
Now she was laughing. “He would like,” Her father mimed a drumroll, “Mint chocolate chip with butterscotch drizzling.” She made a disgusted face.
Her father laughed. “Yes, indeed he would, ‘’ He commented.
They strolled to the ice cream truck where her father made their orders.
A movement caught her eye, and she turned to see what it was. It was the boy! The very boy who had been staring at the balloon mans balloons was now staring at Betty’s big bright red balloon.
The boy didn’t take notice Betty staring at him for a moment, which gave Betty enough time to see the longing in his eyes. He then stared her right in her eyes. An understanding passed between them.
Betty stared at her balloon and thought for a moment. Would her father be mad at her for giving away her balloon? What if she lied to him about it? But she didn’t want to lie to her father to her father.
Finally, she held out the balloon to the boy. The boy stared at Betty in unbelief. He must have read in her eyes the urging for him to take it, because he took the balloon and mumbled to her, “Thank you.” He then ran off with a beam lighting up his face.
Betty smiled. Though she was sad to see her balloon go, she was glad she had given it to the boy.
“Here Betty.” She turned back to her father as he handed her a pink and brown ice cream scoop on a cone lined with sprinkles. When she took the ice cream, her father’s expression turned puzzled. “Where is your balloon?” He questioned
She though a moment before looking at the sky and saying, “Where all good balloons go, Daddy.”
Her father smiled and took her hand in his. “Don’t worry, Honey, I’ll get you a new one,” he responded.
She knew that he didn’t know that she hadn’t meant the sky, but she said, “Okay, Daddy.”
They then walked through the park once more as the sun started to sink behind the horizon.

I hope y’all enjoyed! I’m working on a new project do real this blog, so stay tuned.