Here is your story-ing, HeroesOfOlympus. I hope you like it! I think I might have suffered from an overuse of the word, "you" as I wrote it, however.

***

You’ve always loved going on hikes with your best friend, Amina, and her two dogs, Sierra and Nevada. You pride yourself on knowing every inch of the forest. At least, you thought you did.

You look around. You are in a completely unrecognizable part of the forest. The trees are older and more weathered than anywhere in the woods that you know. And they all look exactly the same. This is what you get for telling Amina that you could go home by yourself after your fight.

You sigh, and plop down onto a boulder, much harder than you should have. “Ow!” You immediately jump back up, and glance at the boulder. Of course. You sat down on the sharpest rock in the entire forest.

Glancing around, you take in your surroundings. Trees, rocks, trees, dirt, more trees. Green and brown and grey. And. . . red? You do a double take. Yes. Among the trees is a splotch of faded red. Closer examination proves it to be the wall of a dilapidated old barn. You glance up at the sky. The sun is setting, and it’s starting to get dark. Maybe you should spend the night in the barn. It’s better than the forest floor. As long as there’s no bats. You shudder. Bats are awful. They’re nothing more than creepy little rats with wings and rabies.

The barn is spacious and comfortable. More comfortable than the forest, at least. And there’s no bats. The loft looks like a good place to sleep, but the only ladder is broken. You sigh. There’s been a lot of sighing today. When Amina said her parents wanted her to go home. When she got mad at you for wanting to stay longer in the forest. When she left. When you got lost.

All this sighing is getting depressing. You resolve to think of happier things, like birthday parties. . . Amina has gone to every one of your birthday parties since you turned two. Puppies. . . you and Amina rescued Sierra and Nevada from the pound when they were only puppies. Candy. . . Amina convinced you to make molasses candy with her once. It turned out terribly, but it was fun, and you went out for ice cream afterwards.

All this daydreaming must have put you to sleep, because, looking through the broken door of the barn, you see Amina emerging from the trees, with Sierra and Nevada tugging on their leashes.

“Sky? Are you there?” calls out Dream-Amina. Then, she sees the barn and rushes towards you. “Sky! What were you thinking!”

Are you asleep? “I was lost,” you reply.

Amina rushes forward and hugs you. The warmth of her arms contrasts with the frigid air in the barn. “We were so worried. . . when you didn’t come home. . . I thought it was all my fault!”

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You are bundled into a car with plenty of blankets and hot chocolate, and dogs on either side of you. The next morning, everyone pampers you, bringing you breakfast in bed and letting you watch TV all day long.

Later, you hear what happened. When Amina came home without you, everyone was frantic, but they waited an hour before calling the police.

Really, it was Sierra and Nevada who saved the day. They caught your scent and led Amina to you. They were the heroes of the day. Thanks to that, your parents finally bought you a dog, a golden retriever named Oro.

You and Amina fought again. There’s no avoiding it when you’re as close as you two are. But you always forgive each other. After all, that’s what friends are for.

***

Your bill:

Name: Heroes of Olympus

Purchase: Storying

Cost: FREE!

Savings: 50% 

ooo! can I have one?

Name: NoOneKnows, or Amina

Age: 11-ish

Gender: Female

Appearence: Bellybutton length blonde hair, yellow green blue eyes, short nose, big smile, wears A oversize black hoodie with Yin Yang symbuls on it, and jean shorts with lace at the bottom.

Personality: funny, kind, cheerful, kinda crazy, wild, fearless (exept for some things... like SPIDERS), can be rude, idek.

History: I live right next to my best friend Sky in tahoe and I really want two dogs one named Sierra and the other named Nevada, but please don't  put that in the story, because I would like a Pitbull puppy named Grace in the story.

Setting: maybe in a jungle? or in NYC.

Other: Ummm... Mayby idek. so, yep.

Comments: I love you writing!

Emekittycon Kitten: I am so sorry, I did not get around to doing your picturing today, I was really busy. I am super sorry, I should have it in tomorrow.

I am so sorry I took so long on your story, Emekittycon Kitten. I was really busy for the past few days, and I just didn't get around to it. Here it is though, and I hope you like it. I don't know how well I matched your personality to your description, it wasn't really the same. However, inspiration called, and I must follow. Sorry this was so long, heres the actual story:

***

You walk leisurely to school. You know you have time to get there, it’s barely six a.m. Your mom thinks something is wrong with you, since you always wake up so early and go to school as soon as the sun rises. What she doesn’t understand is that this time is your treasure. The time you have, walking through the deserted streets of your small town, as the sun rises and you can just bask in the beauty of the world. At this time, the whole world belongs to you. This is the time where nobody cares that you always go barefoot, and nobody asks you why you always wear that headband. It’s just you and the sunrise.

You arrive at school just as the first bus pulls into the driveway, and the first little kids walk into the building. The beauty of the world is lost, kidnapped by the huge vehicle and the yelling kindergarteners. You sigh, but you are used to it, and you know that tomorrow morning, you will see another sunrise.

Suddenly, you hear something different that normal. Among the sounds of shouting and yelling is a quiet melody. You look around, confused, until you find the source. It is a boy, the boy who just moved into the dusty, old cottage beside your house. His name is Benjamin, or Bradley, or something. You don’t know much about him, except that his dad is dead and that he is really short. And this old little boy is singing, in the middle of the crowded playground. It is a soft, sorrowful, wordless melody, that gradually grows louder.

Other people have heard it now, and they turn to look. Some of the other boys start to laugh and jeer at him. What is that kid doing? you wonder. You can’t go around singing in the middle of recess. Not when you are the new kid. Not when you are about a foot shorter than any of the other sixth graders. You feel a tug at your heart, a burst of pity for this strange boy. You remember what it was like to be a new kid at this school full of clones, all the stereotypical popular kids, when you are different. No one understands why you are who you are. They say, “Isn’t black lipstick Goth or something?” “Are you, like, a vampire?” “Why do you always wear all black?” “Why do you always wear those silly cat ears?” They don’t understand you. They don’t understand Bradley either, and he hasn’t learned yet how to put a barrier around his heart, how to remain unmoved by the stares and whispers.

You know what you have to do. You step over to Bradley. “Leave him alone,” you say. “What did he ever do to you?” Everyone is so surprised to hear you speak unbidden, that they step away, and allow you to usher Bradley away from the group. He does not thank you, he merely continues his song. But the melody has lost the sorrow. It is now full of pure joy, the joy that you feel now. This boy is a kindred spirit. You understand him as you have never understood anyone else at school.

“Meet me at my house. Six o’clock tomorrow morning.” You won’t be alone on your morning walks. But you won’t miss the solitude. Bradley needs you, and sometimes, a companion is more than a burden. A companion can be a friend.

***

Your bill:

Name: Emekittycon Kitten

Purchase: Storying

Cost: FREE!

Savings: 50%

Okay, here is your storying, NoOneKnows. I hope you like it!

***

Walking through the crowed sidewalks of New York, you marvel at the beauty of the huge city. Just as you were starting to think that every city in the world was nothing but a pollution factory, you came here. And, even though it is just as crowded and filthy as anywhere else, Manhattan has a unique and fascinating beauty. Everywhere you go, you stumble across a new and remarkable wonder. The first thing you saw were the library lions. Patience and Fortitude. They had stood there for over a hundred years, and they would stay for hundreds more. They represent faith and steadfastness, the same qualities that you admire and that your parents say you lack so badly.

Then, there was the Statue of Liberty. It was the symbol of freedom. The freedom that every child longs for. The freedom to do whatever you want with your life. The freedom that children and immigrants alike hold so close to their hearts. It’s all an illusion, but you long for it nevertheless. When I grow up. . . When I get to America. . . There’s no difference, really, just different hopes for freedom.

Greenwich Village was another of the wonders. It was no village, but it was incredible in its own way. It was like a whole town inside the city. You could see, just in your short time there, the community that the residents felt. They were all one family there, in a way that is hard to find anywhere, much less such a big city. But this city is not heartless. New York is a mother to the people who live there, and she has a heart.

“Amina! Are you okay?” cries out Sky, your best friend. “You were in a trance or something.”

“Yeah. I’m good. Sorry,” you say.

You are in your hotel room that you share with Sky. Your mom is next door. Much too close for comfort, but it was hard enough convincing her that the two of you would be okay by yourselves for the night. You slump on your bed, and Sky grabs the remote beside her own bed.

“There’s no parents here,” she says. “And that means no one can stop us from watching whatever you want.” You surf through the channels, but you are dissatisfied with everything you find. Somehow, TV just seems too shallow and fake compared to the city brimming with life just outside your window. You glance outside, just as your dog, Grace, leaps onto your bed, slobbering all over you.

“Down, Grace,” you say, but she is unable to contain her joy at being with you. You don’t know why everyone is so scared of pit bulls. Grace is nothing but a big, slobbery bundle of sweetness. But for once, her enthusiasm is just annoying. With New York just an inch away from your fingertips, you can’t think of anything else.

You look over at Sky. She’s asleep, her breathing soft and deep. Grace has finally fallen asleep as well, and your mom must be asleep now, too. There’s no one to stop you. . .

You pull on a sweatshirt and sneakers, and sneak out of your room. You don’t meet anyone on your way downstairs. No one tells you to go back to your room. You run outside.

The night air is cool and refreshing, and you can see the Statue of Liberty at the edge of the horizon. You know that you are going home tomorrow, back to Tahoe, and your family, and everyday life. But New York will always be in your heart.

***

Your bill:

Name: NoOneKnows

Purchase: Storying

Cost: FREE!

Savings: 50% 

Would it be okay with you if I used your storying as the base of a novel I want to write? It's okay if you say no, I was just wondering.