Stories:

I have had so much homework lately that I really haven't had much time for these poor ol' things. But, I'm hoping to start forcing something out of this old brain before I only know how to do math, science, and analyze writing instead of being an author. Here's some specifics on what I've got going:

The Plias Way: The Plias, their Establishments, and the villages they subtly hold hostage make a big mistake when they trouble Valina and four of the teens that live there by threatening to ruin their families. It turns out to be an even bigger mistake when these four teens meet (and fall in love) with just the right people to change their world from the way things have been for the past 175 years. --This is the story I'm currently working on and will be updated whenever it is that I have time.

The Love of a Player: Halley knows what he is. She has for the whole two years that they've been best friends. Derek himself knows what he is, just like everyone else. So why is it suddenly such a problem for him to lose himself in being a player, and her to let him fall again? --On hiatus until I get inspiration or... something.

Poems:

These are just... random as possible. Full of love, hate, fear, anger, and every other emotion out there. They happen when they happen, enjoy!

Other Notes:

-I am a Christian, and would appritiate if any comments on my works would use language that isn't offensive to anyone out there.

-I'm an eternal optomist who wants to be a pessimist. Hence, the glass is always half empty, even when my relentless mind tells me it's half full.

-I try to review every work I read. I also try to read someone's work after they review mine, kind of as a thank-you. No, I don't expect this from other people. If in any way what I said is offensive, let me know, and I will explain what I mean. I really don't mean to be offensive in any way.

-Profile image: http:///art/Holly-s-Love-Rose-111282174

Quotes:

If life won't pause, take a pause from life.

If everything we have was once imagination, does that mean that reality is imagination?

Beauty is in personality, for only a few beauties suit each person.

Remember? I'm the freak here, you're the 'real' person.

Pens were invented before pencils. And before that they had to scratch in stone to make anything stay. Does that mean life has become more impermanent as the centuries pass by?

If how I think of the world, is by me thinking about my stories, does that mean that the only reality, for me, is my writing?

--all previous quotes are... mine!

Does the walker choose the path, or the path choose the walker?

-Last sentence in the Book of the Dead, (which is in Sabriel, and Lirael, two books in the Abhorsen trilogy by Garth Nix.)