This is part of a book im writing called: The Band. I am posting it on inkwell, with a new part every weekday, here is the link, please check it out! Also the genre is historical fiction and the word count is 385.

http://www.cricketmagkids.com/chatterbox/inkwell/node/438357

Julia strode into the forest, losing herself in the woods that she had loved all sixteen years of her life, she moved with grace and speed, and, after walking for almost a mile she came upon a large tangled clump of shrubs. She ducked down and wriggled through a small opening in the roots, sliding into a shadowy chamber beneath the shrubs. She crawled through one of the many tunnels which branched off from the main chamber and came into a spacious chamber filled with moss and grasses, She sank back into a bed of moss, allowing herself to breathe at last, but as she did a familiar voice came out of the shadows "Julia..." She turned, her eyes wide,

"Clay! is that you!?" 

Clay stepped forward with a sad smile. She gasped with surprise and threw her arms around him, tears streaming down her face, all the emotion of the past few hours being let out in a sudden torrent, she sobbed, not trying to hold it in. Clay patted her back and whispered that it would be ok. After a few minutes Julia stood up, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so forward, I-I just... it's been a really hard day, and, well, I’m sorry."

"Don't worry, It's ok, I understand, really."

His eyes filled with tears and he tried to blink them back.

"My family... the reason I'm here is because, well, the raiders, they-they took my family too."

Julia froze, not believing what she had heard, she shook her head, the raiders had never done anything this big before. 

“You're not serious are you?”

Clay shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I’m afraid I am.”

“No, no, this can’t be happening!”

Clay wrapped his arms around her, and they both cried for a long time. Finally they wiped their eyes and looked around them, it was dark, and they were tired from the stress of the day. They both lay down to sleep. Clay fell asleep almost immediately, but Julia lay there for a long time, unable to sleep, listening to Clay’s soft breathing beside her and looking at the stars through the bushes. Her life seemed to be coming down around her ears, and she could do nothing to stop it.

Here's my entry. I guess it's fiction?

I hate spiders. I mean, I really hate spiders. Theyscuttle over everything with their spindly legs, stringing webs of sticky silkin their wake. Maybe It’s because one crawled in my mouth once. Honestly, mehating the largest order of arachnids isn’t going to change, so it seems likesomething I should get out on the table.     

The woman sitting across the tablegives me the stink eye after she skims the note that explains my biggest fear.“This isn’t going to stop me from showing you spiders,” she says dryly.

“It could,” I mumble. My hands are trembling.   

“It won’t.” The woman’s hand clampsaround my shoulder as she prods me through a door. “Remember, Izzie, this isabout facing your fears. You get pizza if you’re successful.”  

The space is tiny, and I fight theurge to crouch down and cover my eyes. That would mean automatic failure.

Suddenly, the light goes off, plungingthe space into darkness. Before I have time to be afraid, the walls burst tolife, glowing screens flashing a rainbow of colors. My head spins as the colorsgive way to a small black speck, growing bigger and bigger, blurred linescrisping.

A hulking, hairy, eight-legged figurelunges out of the wall at me. I press my back against the door, straining tokeep my eyes open.

It isn’t real.It’s just an illusion.

The spider grows bigger, ballooninguntil it fills every inch of every wall, and splits up into hundreds of tinyspiders that scurry towards me. They are everywhere.

My heart pounds, breath coming inshort gasps. I can’t do this. My hands begin to lift up to my eyes to hidethem.

Just then, the spiders disappear. Thewalls are plain and white, as if nothing ever happened. The door opens, and thewoman smiles, holding out a plate.

“Pizza?”                             

Oh, I love that! (I have selfdiagnosed myself with arachnaphobia) I'm gonna do something here as well I think.

Attention! We are still doing this and it is still open.

Here is my 'story':

NOTES ON HOW VARIOUS WORKS OF MUSIC AFFECT MY MENTAL STATE  

Her tooth brushing habits have steadily been declining. Moss on white rocks in a red forests. Northmoss? He wants the table centered I don't give a damn. The fumes make me light headed, I continued writing. He thinks mopping is boring, but Mum and I don't. It's one of the few things we agree on.

The pitiful scholar stands his own against the murderer of Caius Antippus Toodles!

No wait, the murderer is dead.

Oh. Well...

The courageous scholar stands his own against the murderer of Caius Antippus Toodles's book! He slashes it to ribbons. But then-as if waking from a trance-sees the destruction! He sees the beloved book so ruin'd and collapses weeping! He dies his eyes out!

Too many exclamation points. Find a better euphamism for death. 

SHADDUP!

YOU SHUT UP!

This is pointless..

Why are you involved?

'Cause I feel like it. 

Why is the scholar attacking a book?

RRRR!

Ack.

THE VALIANT SCHOLAR STANDS HIS OWN AGAINST CAIUS ANTIPPUS TOODLES!

What the heck?

+

LUNCHTIME: Put my fake face on and pretend now, but fall into the rut and feel almost happy, make a few joke-like remarks, ex: 'The last pure untainted cookie!'

+

'Hello, hello, lemme tell you what it's like to be a zero, zero, let me show you what it's like to always feel, feel, like I'm empty and there's nothing really real, real-Lemme tell you 'bout it, well let me tell you 'bout it, maybe you the same as me.' Well yes I am. Oh here's the song. 

+

They think I'm diabetic. I don't tell them the real reason.

+ 

They talk of us being nuisances. Hypocrites. Towers Fall. Lipstick on the bottom don't affect readability. Little -----.
Little -----.

My throat's hurting again.

Don't take that cup, she might be trying to poison us with inferior washing.
Too late.

Oh look it's Joseph Not Joe but and still Jo is still spelled different, probably about the forbidden how to draw manga books. *grabs mask*

 Escape now. Moana is almost done for to Disturbances in the Dystopian Atmospheres will there be the ad? no it is the Allesia Care Version and that's one song closer to Owl City and Rihanna whose name mispronounced (?) by Jay-Z but I like this song so it's not to agonizing and this will never work and its done

 I love the rapping in this one.

SHUT UP AND FLY! SHUT UP AND DRIVE! I would be ecstatic. I don't use that word, try not to. Holly Black is like Rude Boy.

Cross my fingers it's the library.

Listening to Cray Button I pretend it's a real beer. I dislike IBC more than the hard stuff, shoulda picked the Coke. But the IBC is bigger. Twisted follies.

Tom's diner and i dont know why and it makes me gasp my lungs collapse it makes me long for something i cannot reach. remembering. i woulda loved it anyway i rise to skip it but i cant- or you could be a decent person. catedral, voice, milk. 

Then will be Canadian Brass Viva la Vida. But there is a murder of ads. 2. A murder? imagine dragons. I love the Brass Version even more these things make me ache and sandpaper on my gut. I can't do this anymore. I must suffer in silence. 

Ugh, I think yesterday shot my brain to hell, I forgot the theme: It's Historical Fiction. 

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