Hola peoples!

 

The next WE will be posted Wednesday, October 2nd! That is 2 days away!

As Beka mentioned, please have your WE's ready by the end of tomorrow - they are supposed to be ready by Wednesday, not written and posted the same day. That way, if something was to happen and you couldn't post it, it will be ready to post as soon as the issues are worked out.

 

Ok, everyone, happy writing! :)

Weekly Expressions #2 ~TJ

Alright, alright! If you stop insisting, and if you buy me another ale, I shall tell you the tale of the NetherKnight, or Netherman as some would have him called.
You see, it is a grand tale. Perhaps real or not, we shall not know. He was claimed to be a demon or a sorcerer by some, a brilliant alchemist by others, but most of his time was spent as a fighter. I would imagine his older brother had taught him well in the arts of combat seeing that the brother was a knight before him, but his trickery was learned through trial and little error. He could see into a box and tell you it's contents without ever opening it. He pick-pocketed half of the merchants in the city by the age of 12! No fool in the city had the mind to know it was him, they set a trap for him by nightfall expecting a man, but when a child passed by, they thought nothing of it. The officials later apprehended the child and chained him to a dungeon wall... mere hours before he escaped. Twice.

It is amusing and perhaps incredible to think such a young man so clever, no?

This carried on for six more years before he was brought before a senator of the republic council to be offered a job as a spy in enemy countries. I know not what went through this young lad's mind, but perhaps it was thrilled at the offer of a challenge.
He was more than successful at his calling, he excelled! There was naught his kingdom asked for that he could not deliver.
But two months later, he went missing. His friends and administrators feared him dead, for the enemy claimed to have executed a 'spy' in their presence.

Oh, if only the fools had known they just bit themselves in their own heels!

Later, wouldn't you expect, that rumors had begun to surface of a ghost stealing valuables in the enemy's city. That, my friend, is why you make sure your enemy is dead before you report him dead.

With the information and goods stolen from the enemy capital, the home city was able to raise enough resources and organize a direct attack on the enemy country. But the enemy proved stronger than anticipated.

I believe on the field of Amarath, banking the river Craine, the home armies were met with fierce opposition. Odds nearly 7 to 1. The home armies knew they had no chance of surviving. But mere moments before the battle was to begin, a hooded man came to negotiate terms of the battle. I'm sure the enemy commander's face went pale as the ghost he was staring at. Little is known about the conversation that took place there. Some say the hooded man claimed to be wrath of the gods, but no one knows for sure since the commander hasn't been seen since that day.

To add pain to misery, my friend, (this is personally my favorite part of the tale) the hooded figure went to the crest of the hill with 32 men and had them stand precisely on the ridge, so it appeared as if there were more troops behind them, when in reality, it was a deceiving trick. The hoodman called out to his group of 20 archers to fire, but when they fired, they didn't launch their arrows all at once, as was traditional. They synchronized their arrows to form a steady stream of arrows through the sky, so, once again, it appeared as if numbers were greater than they were. Not only were they original arrows, they glowed with different colored flame and exploded in the sky and on the ground.
The hooded man revealed himself later to be the NetherKnight, and called out to the enemy that he led the undead.

The enemy ran in fear and never bothered the home kingdom again for another 500 years. Enough for a few centuries of peace. And the NetherKnight was given his title of 'Knight' for saving the country.

There you have it my friend. I love that story, it makes me smile to think of how one man's genius seemed to fool an entire army. To me, it seems too fantastic to be true, but whether it really is or not, I shall leave that up to you, my friend.

Now how about that drink you promised an old man?

Weekly Expression #2

Ok, here is #2 picked by Mikala!
Remember, write your story BEFORE next Wednesday. They are supposed to be posted on Wednesday. Not written then posted all in one day ;)
Sorry it took me so long to post this. Honestly, I forgot. Mikala is the one who should have posted it but she went out of town the other day so I took responsibility.

Oh and here is the schedule for the following weeks.

Mikala's pic is due (due to be posted) on October 2nd.
Timothy, you must have your WE picture picked out and you will post yours on the 2nd. Your week is the 2nd-9th.
Chelsea, you must have your WE picture picked out and you will post yours on the 9th. Your week is the 9th - 16th.
Matt, you must have your WE picture picked out and you will post yours on the 16th. Your week is the 16th-23rd.

Does everyone understand? I'll answer any questions via fb ;)

Ok. So here is this weeks picture, due Oct. 2nd!

Weekly Expressions #1 ~TJ

It was the letter she had waited for, but dreaded to hold. She expected, but did not want. Anticipate, and despise.
Suzanne worked in a bakery on the southern end of Pittsburgh, making delicacies only dreamed of by the finer citizens of the city. Eddy, the manager big enough to clog a ship's cannon, hired her on the spot after tasting a cupcake from the Baker's Annual Blue Ribbon Contest, (of which, Suzanne won) but with the war starting and ingredients increasingly difficult to purchase, the annual contests drew to a sudden close. It was no matter, Suzanne found other ways to spend her time.
In fact, that was all she did with her time. Long days in the hot bakery, making pedestrians outside the window lust after the fruits of her labor. She had no place to call home; after her father died, her mother had to sell the family farm and estate to afford town housing in Pittsburgh roughly the size of their hayloft at the farm, shared by six families. But now the funds were depleted,  and Suzanne works the ovens while mother stays home and works the linens.

Then came the man.

The handsome young man with blond curls and blue eyes, and hands burned by many ovens, yet skilled to place a cherry precisely in the middle of a mint midget cake. Suzanne couldn't peel her eyes away, until she saw his gaze return. Her bashfulness then took the wheel and directed her back to her work. But for the next few weeks, they spoke more with their eyes than words could find meaning for.

On Monday, March 3rd, work was released early due to supplies depleting and no shipments until morning. Micheal approached Suzanne and offered to walk her home from the bakery.

On Sunday, June 2nd, they took each other's hand in marriage. Never was there a happier couple (nor poorer either) in all of Pennsylvania. They bought a cozy cottage outside of the city and had barely any land, but simply enough to start a small garden on the east side of the house. Micheal submitted the request of owning a dog, to which his wife declined.
Never in their dreams did they expect Micheal to be drafted and sent to war simply three months later.

Now, October 23rd, on the way back from the bakery with some cream muffins for mother's birthday in a bushel sack, Suzanne stopped at the rugged metal box they had the audacity to call a 'mailbox' and pulled out letters with one having a return address from the American Government. She decided to stop by the Franklin Statue in the park where Micheal proposed to her to sort the mail. Suzanne quickly did a calculation in her head to see if she had enough to pay for this month's taxes, for surely this is what this letter is for...

...she was wrong.

Micheal's not coming home.

Weekly Expressions #1 MC

To Denounce Him or Make Him Known

By: M.J. Coleman

Katherine’s sewing needle stopped mid-seam and she looked at her husband in fear. “You told them?”

            “I had no choice! What did you want me to do, denounce God? Lie about everything we hold dear? Tell them we’re on their side?” Michael shook his head in disgust.

            “You could have chosen not to answer!”

            “And they would take that as defiance! Where would that leave us then?”

            Little Emma spoke from the window. “Horsey!” She had the curtain pulled back slightly and was gazing intently out the clear glass at the dusk.

            “Emma, get away from the window!” Katherine commanded her 3-year old daughter.

            “Besides,” Michael continued, “God has us in His hands. He knows the situation and He will protect us.”

            “How can you be so sure? Did that protect the others?” Katherine’s eyes blazed with fear. She continued to sew with trembling hands.

            The government had been killing off Christians one by one since the Great Revival that took place in the big town a couple months ago. They kept it swept under the rug, but that kind of thing quickly gets out, no matter how far under the rug it is. As a result, some of the Christians were trying to keep a low profile while others spoke out more fiercely and with more power than ever before.

            “Horsey!” Emma shouted again from the window.

            “Emma…” Katherine rose out of her chair, setting aside her sewing, and crossed the room to her little girl. She stooped down to pick her up, but stopped dead in her tracks when she saw what Emma was so excited about.

            Seven men, each astride a horse, stood outside in front of the house. They were dressed in identical uniforms with a government patch on the breast pocket and a lighted torch in one hand.

            Katherine’s face turned white as one of them, obviously the leader, gave his torch to one of the other men, dismounted his horse, and looked around at the property. He turned and took in the lake, statue, and bench, and then turned back to the house. Straightening his uniform, he began to march up to the front door.

            Katherine turned around to face her husband, pure terror distorting her features.

            Michael looked at her and understood her expression. He jumped out of his chair, grabbed Emma, and led his wife down the hall and into the hidden cellar under a rug in the wooden floor.

            “If anything happens, use the passageway and come out the other side.”

            Katherine nodded, jumped down into the small cellar, and took Emma from him. He closed the door and put the rug back in place just as a knock was heard at the door.

            Michael said a silent prayer under his breath and slowly made his way to the door which was impatiently being pounded on.

            When he reached the door, he opened it calmly and smiled at the government official standing before him. The official did not return the gesture.

            “I am told that a Mr. White lives here. Would you be him?”

            “Yes, sir,” Michael responded with forced repose.

            “Where is the rest of your family?”

            “Family, sir? I am a - …”

            The official slapped him across the face. Michael’s head swung to the side, but he did nothing to defend himself.

            “Did you or did not you not confess to being a Christian today?”

            Michael looked at the official with head held high. “I did.”

            The official nodded. He took one look at the small house, then fixed his eyes on Michael. “Where is your family?”

            “Sir, I - …”

            Another slap stung his face on the same side. Michael raised his eyes to the sky and said nothing.

            The official sighed. “I am usually a very patient man, Mr. White, but I’ll admit – you’re trying it. Now I will ask you one more time – WHERE is your family?”

            Michael stood silent.

            “Very well,” the official concluded, “if you won’t speak, we’ll make you scream.” He turned to the other government officials. “Burn it down.”

            The official mounted his horse as the other men came closer to the house and threw their torches through the various windows. The house went up in flames as the officials, all but the leader, turned and went back the way they had come. The leader stayed and watched the show.

            Michael ran into the house, dodging flames and debris that was already beginning to crash down around him. He ran to the rug in the hall, threw it back, and tried to pull open the hidden door. It wouldn’t budge. Suddenly, a beam fell on top of the door. Michael jumped back and tried to move the beam, but it was too heavy.

            He ran out of the house and around to the right side of it. He pried off the small wire door at the bottom of the wall and looked into the passageway coming from the cellar. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fit in there to rescue his wife and daughter, so he yelled into it, but the sound of the flames and the house breaking was too loud to hear anything. He sat back and did the only thing he could do - praying, begging, that Katherine and Emma would make it through the passageway safely and outside.

            Katherine smelled the smoke and it started to seep through the cracks in the floor. She knew instantly that their house was burning.

            Little Emma began to cough and Katherine knew they had to get out of there quick. If they went through the floor door, they would never make it out alive. Their only choice was to use the tiny passageway.

            “Emma! I need you to do something for Mommy!” Katherine yelled over all the noise.

            Emma looked up at her intently, letting out a small cough.

            “I need you to follow me and crawl through this hall and reach the other side!”

            A look of confusion passed over Emma’s little face.

            “Emma, Daddy has some ice cream for you at the end of this tunnel! If you want some, you have to crawl through the tunnel to him!  Can you do that for Mommy? Can you follow Mommy?”

            Emma’s big blue eyes lit up with excitement and she nodded, her blonde curls bobbing.

            “Ok, come on!”

            Emma and Katherine dropped to their knees as Katherine grabbed her tiny hand and began to lead the way down the passage to the other side.

            The house groaned, weakening from the flames.

            Katherine continued to pull Emma along the passageway, coughing from the smoke every now and then.

            They were halfway through the passage when a loud crack was heard. Time seemed to slow for a moment. A loud crash and a high-pitched scream sent a chill down Katherine’s spine. Emma’s hand was yanked out from hers. And then silence.

            “Emma?” Katherine called to her little girl. “Emma, if you can hear Mommy, answer me!”

            Katherine heard nothing but the roar of flames and the house breaking apart. The passageway was much too small to turn around, much less to look over her shoulder. So she did the only thing she could – she backed up a little and felt around with her bare foot.

            She felt debris and hot wood. She moved her foot around a little more and felt a soft hand and small fingers underneath a heavy wooden beam – Emma’s hand.

            Katherine screamed and cried out in grief. She curled her toes around one of Emma’s little fingers and screamed with agony.

            Michael heard the screams and bent his head into the passageway. “Katherine! Can you hear me?!?”

            Katherine sobbed, and choked out, “Emma! Emma!”

            “Katherine! Emma! Come to me!”

            With tears streaming down her face and vision blurred, Katherine forced herself to keep moving. With every crawl away from her crushed daughter, a sting of sorrow penetrated her heart.

            She finally reached the other side, covered in ash, and Michael helped her out of the passageway and onto the grass.

            Michael looked back into the passageway, expecting to see his little daughter’s face, but was surprised to see only ash and smoke.

            “Emma! Where’s Emma?”

            Katherine, kneeling on her knees, looked out across the lake with a blank expression. She was in shock from grief. She did not say a word.

            “Katherine!” Michael shook her, snapping her out of her trance. “Where is Emma?”

            Suddenly, a BANG! He fell over, clutching his side, and groaned in agony. Katherine’s eyes were wide with fear and confusion.

            A laugh sounded and she looked up from her husband and saw that the leader government official sat there on his horse about 10 feet away, a pistol in his right hand.

            Putting the pieces together, she rose and charged the official, diving at him and knocking him off his horse. They wrestled on the ground a bit, the gun going off a couple times in the air until Katherine finally managed to wrench it out of the dirty official’s hand. She stood up and aimed it at his head.

            The official laughed. “You wouldn’t do a thing like this. A sweet, beautiful woman like you wouldn’t take a man’s life.”

            Katherine pulled the trigger and the official fell dead on the ground.

            She rushed back to Michael. Blood was seeping from the corners of his mouth and from the hole in his side.  She sank to the ground and held his head in her lap. She rocked back and forth, brushing the hair out of his face, and repeated his name over and over.

            He looked up at her and slowly raised his hand to her face. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek.

            “Be….strong,” he choked out with much effort. “Don’t…lose…heart. I love…you. I…love-…”

            His hand fell to the ground beside him and Katherine shook her head. “No, no, you can’t! Don’t leave me! I need you to stay with me and help me bury our child…our little Emma.” She held his hand and spoke in a whisper, “Take care of her. Take care of our baby. Tell her Mommy will be there soon.”

She kissed his forehead and stood, the gun in her hand, and walked toward the bench by the lakeside and pointed the gun at her temple.

            Just as she was about to pull the trigger, she stopped. She couldn’t give up. Not now. What would her daughter and husband say? Instead, she threw the gun into the lake and collapsed on the bench, sobbing.

            What was she supposed to do now? Denounce God or make Him known?

            Make Him known, she decided. She rose to her feet and walked back over to her husband. She kissed him on the forehead one last time, mounted the official’s horse, and turned to ride into town on a mission.

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”         

                                                                                                              ~Matthew 28:19-20

Weekly Expressions #1 BK

Weekly Expression #1

By Beka K.

The Autumn air reminded her that winter was fast approaching. She planned to spend the whole day out here. She laid her knapsack on the ground littered with fallen leaves and shed her black coat as she took a seat on the stone bench. She could feel the strands of hair falling out of her once tight braids that clung to her head. A month of working and little sleep had left her emotionally and physically exhausted. She laid her head on her arms and let the sobs that had been building up over this last month finally be free. Her sleeve quickly became drenched with her tears. Why had life been so cruel to her family? The tragic death of her father had dealt a terrible blow to them in these already hard times. They had no time to mourn. Her mother began working more hours in the day and she forced herself to watch her small brothers during the day as her mother worked. When her mother came home at night, it was her turn to leave and go to work. But it was what they had to do when her father's income was cut off from them.

She missed her father dearly. He was always there for her and the rest of her family. The little ones adored him. She tried to act like she was too old for hugs and kisses but even at eighteen, she still desired his affection. And now that he was gone, all she wanted was one last hug. The thought of never getting another hug made her sobs become uncontrollable.

An image of Carter Smith flashed through her mind. She had been so busy she had nearly forgotten about him. His handsome features and smooth black hair that swayed in the wind would stop her heart. Everyone teased her about him. They all said he fancied her but she was either to blind or too love struck to actually see it.

What if her father hadn't died? Would Carter have pursued courtship with her? She killed the thought then and there. She was too busy to be courted. But then she wondered, how long would she work herself? To her own grave? Would she ever have time to be courted?

Carter never showed any other girl in the town as much attention as he had her.

She was lucky to have the mayor's son nearly throwing himself at her feet.

She laughed...If only!

The sobs became to dissipate and she felt herself beginning to calm down. She left her things where they were and began the short walk to his grave. The air whipped her hair and made her shiver. She wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her to her knees before his grave.

Father. Brother. Husband.

1885-1900

Why was this happening? Would she ever know the answer?

She heard the sound of leaves crunching underfoot as someone drew near to her. She was lost in her sorrow, she dared not look up for fear that whoever it was would see her puffy red eyes. She felt him lay a hand on her shoulder. It was a gentle yet strong touch. Strong than a woman's. She fought the fear and looked up.

Carter stood above her, his hand still resting on her shoulder. He looked solemn and respectful. His head was bowed and his eyes closed. She placed her hand over his and for a few silent moments they both stood there.

“Laura...” He finally whispered as he knelt beside her. “I must speak with you. I am so sorry about your father. I tried to see you as soon as I had heard of what happened but I realized you needed to be with your family. I have tried to give you space these last few weeks. I can only imagine how hard they have been on you.”

She tried to conceal a whimper. She did have feelings for this man.

He continued after a pause, “I want to help you, Laura. And not just you. But your family as well. I don't want to see you or your mother working yourselves to death. It breaks me to see how hard you think you have to work. I know I haven't been very clear with you the last several months but I will be clear with you now. I like you. And not just like you but I think I'm falling for you. And I want the chance to court you and get to know you better. And to help you have time for me,” He winked with a smile, “I'm taking care of the income you used to get from your father's hard work, plus some.” He said with a little tease. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. His hand drew closer to her and she nearly pulled back. He tenderly wiped her tear away.

He smiled with a tear of his own. “Say something.”

“I would like that very much.” She laughed and cried at the same time.

Weekly Expressions #1 CK

 By Chelsea K.    

     It was a dark fall evening. Only moments before, choosing the longer scenic route home had seemed like a good idea, but now I was immediately regretting it. The wind began to blow, rustling the leaves around me, and the moon cast shadows off the trees, creating an eerie feel to the path around me. The night seemed abnormally quiet and my heart raced within me with every newly made step. Soon, all I could hear was my own feet padding quickly along the dirt. Something was wrong, but i kept going for fear of what would happen if I stood still. After awhile, i realized that the path i was almost jogging down now was not the way home. I squinted in the darkness behind me, trying to see if i had missed the right path a ways back, but nothing was visible now. Panicked, i ran, having no sense of direction, hoping i might find my way. But it seemed to no avail. I was lost. Tears ran down my face as i made my way through the night. Suddenly, a flood of light appeared in the clearing ahead and a girl, lying on a stone bench, wept. I crept closer. Slowly, I approached the weeping girl, sneaking quietly into the light. "Are you alright?" I whispered, peering down at her. For a moment, nothing happened, so I gently tapped her shoulder. But it was when the girl lifted herself to look at me that all my fears were explained. This wasn't a girl sitting on a bench. It was a witch. Suddenly, it was if all my nightmares were coming true when the old, wrinkly hag latched her icy cold fingers onto my wrist and dragged me away. We were sinking deeper into the darkness before I passed out.

Just a little something Beka shared with me earlier today:)

Also, a little inspirational video I came across today:) It could pertain to writing as well:)

 

http://viewpure.com/WcLtNq3XQ5I

Hey purple unicorns!!! XD

The first WE stories will be posted TOMORROW!!! If you have not started on yours yet, please do so immediately!
 

 

 I cannot wait to read all of your wonderful posts!!!:)
As always, happy writing!!!:)
God bless!!!!!!!!!!

Hey Gang!

Here is a great article about how to quickly get inspired to write when you have drawn a blank and can't think of what to write. I have tried this method and it works pretty good:) But everyone is different and it may or may not work for you, so check it out and see if it does!:)

Happy writing!!!:)

Inspiration to Write Article



Hello lovely people! :)

 

I just wanted to remind you guys that we have 4 days until the first WE is due! We will post them on Wednesday, the 25th. If, for whatever reason, you are unable to meet the deadline, please contact Beka and we will proceed from there :)

Remember, this is supposed to be a creative art, so you may write in whatever format fits your preference, whether it be a song, poem, narrative, short story, etc. Also remember that the limit is 5 pages...we do not want to read a 10-page long story! Sorry, love you guys, but this is supposed to be short.

I am looking forward to reading each of your posts! I cannot wait to see how many different perspectives we can write from and how many different things we can all see in one picture!

 

Keep calm and write on! Happy writing!!! :)

Weekly Expressions MC

Weekly Expression MC

Hey everyone!

I decided to put one of my WE's up that I did awhile ago with Beka. Hers is a little ways down if you haven't gotten the chance to check it out yet :) M.J. Coleman is one of my pen names (the other is M.J. Collins which I use for professional purposes), so that is why that is there just in case you are wondering :) So here it is:

No Small Feat

By: M.J. Coleman

            He had made it. He never thought he would reach the top, but alas, here he was. It had taken him 3 and a half hours to climb the treacherous mountain, what seemed like a lifetime. But he had made it – and that was all that mattered.

            He stabbed his flag into the snow – a symbol of his accomplishment, to let future conquerors of this mountain know that with God, all things truly are possible.

            In a way, this mountain was his life, a journey that, in the end, he would conquer. He began to think back on his life, as far back as he could remember.

            His childhood was not the nicest. He had an abusive father who eventually killed his mother, whether he meant to or not. His father was imprisoned and he was sent to his aunt and uncle’s residence. There, his uncle paid him no mind and pretended he didn’t even exist. The only lucky break he got was his aunt who loved him and cared for him like a son. But, as fate would have it, she died in a car accident.

            His mind fast-forwarded to the past few months, the roughest of his life so far. He had found out his wife had been cheating on him throughout the past year. He demanded a divorce then and there. His wife begged him not to and, being the love-struck husband that he was, he relented and gave her a second chance. As he kind of suspected, she blew it. A divorce took place and they went their separate ways.

            He sank to his knees, suddenly overwhelmed. He cried out, a roar of pain and hurt that echoed off the surrounding mountains. He felt so lost, so separated from God. He was angry at God for making his life so miserable. He was completely and utterly helpless and hopeless. A sob escaped his throat and a tear coursed its way down his cheek and was followed by many more. He covered his face with his hands and just sobbed.

            Suddenly, a voice from deep within made its way to the front of his mind: “When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you. I have not forsaken you, My child.”

            He wiped away his tears and stood to face the sun. Yes, with God, all things are possible. Yes, with God, he would conquer this mountain.



Hey Guys!!!

 

I hope you are enjoying this so far and are working hard on your first WE story! Ms. Beka (lol) picked an excellent picture for this WE :) But just wait...mine will be better next week! Haha lol XD Just kidding, Beka!

 

 Anyway, have fun guys and be as creative as you can be! Remember, the sky is the limit! :)

Weekly Expressions BK

Embracing

He twirled the black umbrella above his head and peaked out from underneath it. The small grey clouds threatened rain and he truly hoped they would wait just a little while longer. His breath grew short and his hands were shaking. He kept one hand in his pocket and tried to control his nervousness. Today marked ten years. It had been ten very long and trying years. Would she be here? He looked towards the sea and recalled their fond memories together during that summer they fell in love. Unfortunately for them both, they lived on separate sides of the country. He lived farther from this beach than she did but he still wondered if she would show up. They promised each other to return in ten years. Had she gotten married? He did not know a single girl to be their age and not married by now. Or any men for that matter. Yet here he was, standing on a pier waiting for a girl who had most likely forgotten all about him. He was a lonely and love-sick man. He had yet to find a wife. Perhaps it was because deep down in his heart, no matter how many pretty girls he met, he was still in love with her. Her name was Mabel and she was beautiful, inside and out. He took his hand out from his pocket and flattened his vest and pants. He ran his hand through his wavy brown hair and glanced at the watch on his wrist. He had been waiting on this pier for three hours and with no sign of her. Had he missed her? What if she had come but neither of them recognized the other? That thought shot a wave of panic into his chest. He did not want to have waited ten years only to not recognize her. Yes, he had dreamt about her. He had never forgotten her. How could a man forget a woman who stole his heart? He stared at the faces of every woman who passed him. There were too many questions and variables running through his mind. Would she be alone? What would she look like? What was she wearing? Had she been waiting for this moment for ten years too? What would he do if she never showed up? Would he then move on yet always carry regret for ever believing their childhood romance could ever conjure up a deep and real love? Would the last ten years waiting for this moment have been wasted if she did not show up? How would he be able to move on knowing he had wasted so much time on a hopeless fairytale? What would his life be like if he had forgotten about her and just moved on? Would he be married? Have children?

He shook his head as he replaced his fedora back on his head. He had to stop that sort of thinking now. That would only ruin the rest of his life. He took a deep breath and inhaled the salty sea air. He would not stop believing in a small hope. Sure, he was giving up on ever seeing Mabel again but perhaps that was just a fling of his youth, something he finally now needed to let go of. He did not want to let go of her but he had to. Put plainly, she had not shown up. Therefore, he needed to move on. His heart would be broken for now but it would heal. It always did. He nodded at his decision, took one last deep breath and turned around to begin the long walk back to the hotel.

But the sight before him stopped him in his tracks. She stood not ten feet away. Her brown hair was up in a bun, just as it had been all those years ago. Her cream colored dress with green and red squares and a yellow trim swayed in the breeze. Her blue eyes scanned the crowd before they met his.

There they were, standing so close but even after the amount of time that had passed, this gap felt like it was too far. Amazement and disbelief in his face echoed in hers. She took a couple steps forward and he forced his legs to match her steps. They were now an arm’s length away. Her beauty took his breath away. He held out his hand and held his breath. For this moment, nothing else was happening. It was just her and him. Her red lips cracked into a smile as her small hand reached for his. She paused for only a second before placing her hand in his. He closed his fingers over hers. Her hand was small and soft. It fit as perfect as a puzzle piece in his own hand. He pulled her towards him gently. But she did not need much urging. She closed the gap between the two of them and wrapped her arms around him. She turned her head towards the sea and laid it on his chest. He rested his head onto the back of her neck and closed his eyes. Her perfume was a sweet yet romantic aroma.

He could not believe what was happening. Ten years worth of dreaming and he was finally here, holding the love of his life in his arms. He did not want to let go. He did not want to take the chance of losing her again. He vowed in his heart right there and then that he would never let go. Yes, physically, this embrace would indeed end. But he would never let his heart let go of her love. He did not need her to speak words to tell him she loved him. Her actions today and this very moment proved it. She had spent these past ten years the same as he had. Waiting and dreaming of the day they would reunite.  

Weekly Expressions #1

I will post later on the schedule for picture picking.
For now, I will pick this weeks and Mikala will pick the following week.

Ok, ready? Here we go!

Let's get started!

This weeks pic:

I thought I would start you all off on something "less romantic" than some of my original picks. haha but you can expect more romantic pictures in the future!

Express Yourself!

Are you ready???

Weekly Expressions will begin Wednesday, September 18, 3013! 
Our contributors...

Founders :Mikala C. and Beka K.

Tim C.
Chelsea K.
Matt S. 

Weekly Expressions BK

By Beka K.

He tucked the tiny bundle closer to his chest as he knelt inside the chariot. His head came just under the chariots rim. This mission he could not fail. This was the most important assignment of his life and if he failed now, he would fail the kingdom. This was his King's dying wish. Although the Queen would rather kill all in her path, this was their only option. The Imperial attack during the night had proven their strength and resolve to take over this country. Cyprian would have given his last breath so that the King and Queen could take his place right now. It was, after all truly their place for this. Watching his beloved city, his home, burn down to ashes was the breaking point.

If time had allowed it, Cyprian would have smuggled the Queen out as well. But in her condition it was impossible. They would have been caught and hung. It was much simpler to meet Remus outside the city.

His driver slowed the horse and whispered to him without giving away his location. “Sir, imperial troops are up ahead.”

Cyprian cringed. “How many?”

“Eleven. Magnus is leading them.”

He held the bundle in one arm and his sword in the other. There was no way past the imperial troops. A confrontation would arise and Magnus would finally know his true intentions. Cyprian remembered the day Magnus left home. Two brothers who could not have been closer. Magnus was only a year older than himself. He left home to join the Imperial Army. It was months later Cyprian and his family learned of the evil intentions of the Imperials. It was then that Cyprian made the decision to join his King's army in hopes of one day finding his lost brother and bringing him home.

Sorrow was innumerable when he realized that the dreaded general of the Imperial army who was killing his path to Cyprian's King was none other than his own brother, Magnus.

He swore an oath to destroy the Imperial army to his King yet how could he cut down his own blood for the sake of his country? Magnus was willing to do that. Why not he? He had asked this question to himself over and over again during these last six years. This war was burning up the land from the inside out. It was becoming a civil war, brother against brother. It was the worst of it's kind.

And now the Imperials have the advantage. The King was dead and the Queen would follow shortly. Their only hope lay in Cyprian's arms. The future of the Kingdom weighed in his arms.

He could hear the Imperial troops drawing closer. Their black boots marching to death. It would be their death or his.

“On your mark, Remus.”

“As soon as one is behind you, we will go then.”

Cyprian tucked the bundle to the side of the chariot and tapped Remus' boot to warn him of the bundle.

Remus nudged Cyprian with his knee. That was the signal. Cyprian threw himself over the side of the chariot and landed on an imperial troop. He grabbed the mans head as they fell and snapped his neck. As soon as they hit the ground, he rolled off with his sword in hand and blocked an attack from the next trooper. Remus had already taken down three men with his bow. Two more troopers moved towards Cyprian as he finished off his second. He quickly blocked their blows. Unlike many in the King's army, Cyprian had challenged himself day after day to learn all he could about the art of using a sword so that when the day came for him to lead the army, none would stand in his way. This and his loyalty to the Kingdom had proven themselves true. The King had appointed him General and close friend.

Four, five, six more troopers fell by his sword. A lapse in men gave Cyprian enough time to catch his breath as he scanned for Magnus. And there he found him, behind the opening of the chariot, twenty feet behind. He was making ready an arrow. Cyprian pushed himself up and ran with as much speed as he could muster. He blocked the opening with his body. Magnus had his arrow trained at Cyprian's heart. He would take Cyprian down and finish this task. Cyprian had no way to defend himself against Magnus' arrow. He was too far away to throw his sword. Far enough that Magnus could step aside and kill his unarmed brother.

Cyprian had no choice. Give his life first.

In the instant Magnus let go of the arrow, time slowed. Cyprian watched everything unfold in a motion so slow, even the air itself stilled.

The arrow flew through the air towards him.

Remus ran in front of Cyprian and as he did this he threw his dagger.

The arrow and dagger both hit their targets and both Remus and Magnus fell to the ground.

The moment ended and Cyprian lost his breath as he stepped back in shock from what happened. He dropped to his knees beside his fallen friend. He held Remus' head in his hands as the emotion overwhelmed him.

Words were not spoken by mouth but through their eyes. They both knew the amount of trust and loyalty they each poured into their friendship that even as one lay dying, words were simply not needed. Cyprian nodded to his friend and Remus nodded back. Cyprian watched the life leave Remus' eyes. Another moment of silence passed before Cyprian could hear the distant laughter.

A tear fell from his cheek as he looked up. His face twisted with hatred.

He laid Remus' head down and grabbed his own sword as he walked towards Magnus who was crawling away.

Magnus held the dagger as it was embedded in his chest. He used his other hand to pull himself away. His twisted laughter echoed in the clearing.

Cyprian grabbed Magnus' shirt and pulled him up just enough to show his brother the hatred in his eyes.

“Both of you are fools!” Magnus spit.

Cyprian wiped it away. “He was more of a man, a brother, than you ever were.” Cyprian bit back.

“Go ahead and kill me then.” Blood began to trickle out of Magnus' mouth.

Cyprian shook his head.

“Then you are a cowardly fool indeed!”

“No, I will not kill you. That is far too easy a punishment for you. I will cause you pain and you will die but not yet and not by my hand. See, it will be nightfall soon. It will be then with the pack of wolves seen in these woods will smell your blood and find you. They will feast on your flesh. You will feel every gnawing bite on your flesh. And then you will die and burn in hell.” Spit spewed from his mouth as he finished his sentence.

“How do you expect to keep me here that long?”

Cyprian dropped his brother to the ground. Magnus yelled in pain. Cyprian reached over Magnus and pulled Magnus' sword out of its sheath. Cyprian eyed it for a moment, letting the sun glimmer in it's perfect reflection.

“This.” With all the strength he could, he drove Magnus' sword into Magnus' arm and deep into the ground, pinning him to the ground. Magnus screamed with a fearful cry.

Cyprian inched himself closer, their noses nearly touching. “Don't freeze to death before the wolves finish you off.” He stood and began to turn away.

“You wouldn't dare!” Magnus' voice was twisted with pain and anger yet Cyprian picked up on a hint of fear. He looked confused at his brother.

“I am your brother.” Magnus pleaded.

Cyprian shook his head. “No, my brother died long ago.”

Cyprian turned his back once and for all on his brother. His statement was now true. His brother had died long ago and he would miss the farm boy Magnus. Cyprian was now walking away from General Magnus of the Imperial army. A man deserving of death in the highest form.

“You'd give your life for the infant over your own flesh and blood?” Magnus yelled out from behind him. Cyprian reached down and picked up the wriggling infant who had found it's way out of the bundle. The child smiled up at him. Cyprian smiled as he answered. “Yes.”

“Why? How is the infant so important?”

“Because he will be my king.”