Some people call it insantiy.  I call it excessive creativity of one’s cerebral cortex.

As I sat alone in the padded room, I waited for the “doctors” to come in and release me.  When they came, I ran for my life, still wearing my straight jacket and yelling, “Free the animals!”

“Welcome, Mr. Barnes.  You want to be an elementary school teacher?” the principal asked.

“Of course.  I just love teaching young minds,” the pale-skinned man said with a smile.

The principal tried so hard not to stare, but it was impossible not to.  Glittering like pearls were Mr. Barnes’ canine teeth which extended down further than the rest.  “And you… want to teach the second grade?”

“It has always been my dream.  They’re so young and fresh… Minded!  Fresh minded!” he caught himself.

“And your previous employments were…?”

“I taught high school, but I much prefer younger children.”

“So I see…  Well…”  Before the principal could continue, Mr. Barnes was on the ground, a wooden stake through his chest.

The secretary smiled innocently as she put down the stake shooting gun.  “You’re welcome!” she chirped before returning to her work.

(Another SAT vocab story)

“You’re such a ruffian, child!  Always fighting my men!  They are doing their job, and you should be doing yours!  You are a Princess, not a guard or a knight!” the King bellowed.  Sometimes, I just wonder if he is trying to instigate me so I hit him.  Then he’d have a legitimate excuse to dispose of me.

I sat down on my throne and rested my head on my fist as he went one with his verbose castigation.  I never used to be one to have issues with an authoritative figure, but there was just no getting along with King Corsan.  As I listened, I kept a nonchalant attitude, not wanting to give him the slightest hint that I was just about ready to rip his head off.

Finally, he seemed to be at a closing.  “Just start acting like a Princess instead of a banshee child!”

“Just start acting like a Princess instead of a banshee child!” I mimicked him, fed up with his talking.

“Do not mock me!” he shouted.

“I was simply trying to emulate your regal acts, good King.  If I am to act more like royalty, I might as well learn from you,” I retorted.

“You foolish child!” he growled, getting up.  “Guards!”

The throne room slipped into total chaos as guards filed in and ran around, swords and rope brandished.  It was exactly what I needed to get out, however.

“Get back here!” a guard hollered from behind me.  Of course, I ignored him.  There was absolutely no reason for me to go back to the infamous King just so I could be tortured some more.  There was no logic in it!  Anywhere!  If there was, I would love for someone to show it to me.

When it came to running away from my nemesis back at the castle, I was certainly no novice.  I have run away hundreds of times.  While I have never successfully escaped, I at least get further and further with each attempt.

The sun’s light was waning as I finally reached the massive mountains surrounding our fair town of Cahal.  I was relieved, for in the sun’s light, I was far too vulnerable.  The King’s men would have been able to see me with ease, and if not me, they would certainly see the out-of-place snowy owl, Shanta, that accompanied me on every one of my little runs.

Without hesitation, I began to ascend the mountain.  I had to get up and out of sight before it got too dark for even myself to see.

With a sigh and a moan, I pulled myself onto a cliff, pulling my legs in to my chest so anyone on the ground would be unable to see me.  I turned to my little owl, who hooted quietly to suppress my rigidity.

“I know, Shanta…” I whispered in response.  “I can not help it, though.  The King refuses to pass unto me the mantle.  I need to leave now and come back when I can take it from him.”  Finally, she got up and began scaling the mountain once more.

I barely made it halfway to the zenith of the mountain before I could hear Sir Pedric and his posse at the base of the mountain.  He was pointing at me and yelling something that I could not fathom.

“I am not going back!” I hollered down to them.

It was difficult to make out, but it looked like he was glaring at me.  “Superb…” I mumbled sarcastically.  In a futile attempt to get away, I curled up on the side of the mountain.  Out of sight, out of mind, right?

There was no longer any noise coming from bellow, so I began to relax.  No need to worry about nothing.

Abruptly, I was falling from the mountain.  I had no clue what had caused the fall until I managed to roll over and see that none other than Bartamus the bounty hunter, the very man I resented, was standing on the cliff.

I braved a look at the quickly approaching ground.  Soon I would become one with it, but something darted in and caught me, pulling me far away.  It wasn’t until we came to a standstill that I saw who my “captor” was.

“Christian!” I laughed.

“No.  It’s the Sand Man,” the boy responded with a smirk, trying to be comical.

“My, my, my!  Someone’s in a festive mood,” I teased.

“Precisely!” he replied, pulling me into a hug and kissing the top of my head.  “You know, the King is getting a little too spiteful lately.  I seriously think that the were about to kill you!”

“No need to say that twice…” I sighed.

“Well, as long as I’m around, you’ll have nothing to fear.”  He tucked my hair behind my ear before kissing me again.

“I still wish I knew how you did that!” I complained.

“I wish I could tell you how I did that,” he admitted.

It still made no sense to me why he couldn’t tell me anything about himself.  He never told me who he was, who his parents were, or even where he came from.  I had to repress my urge to further question him.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Christian commented.

“I know.  I’m just… caught in thought,” I whispered.

“Well, perhaps you should stop worrying so much.  Just enjoy the day,” he told me.

I smiled.  “With you around, I think I just might be able to,” I replied, kissing him gently on the cheek.

(This was an assignment for school.  Our teacher has us using a book with SAT level vocabulary to write stories.  The vocab words are bold, and I am just to lazy to unbold them.)

I watched my prey as it hobbled away on its wounded legs.  I could tell that the creature was agonizing as it let out a loud, sorrowful roar.  Truthfully, I could not let this creature go on under such torment, so I did what any good dragon hunter would do!  I lured the beast with a chunk of veal and then plunged my dagger into the soft flesh of its underbelly.

That was that.  Another beast mine for the taking!  I pined for the beautiful blue scales of the beast, worth quite a pretty penny down at the black market.  Procuring the scales was laborious work, but the money I would receive as payment for the beast’s hide kept me going.

Finally, the beast was stripped of scales, and I was greatly fatigued.  I collapsed against a tree, breathing hard as I looked upward to the sky.  Despite how tired I was, I remained in a state of insomnia.  My anticipation for the next day’s trade must have kept me awake.

At some point, I must have dozed off.  I donned my cloak and headed down to the market.

“Hey, neophyte,” one store owner called out to me.

In a single instant, I was right up in his face.  “I am no newcomer, lad.  This is my fifth dragon!” I hissed.

The merchant raised an eyebrow.  “And?  That lovely little vixen over there just killed her fiftieth.  Therefore, I hold my point.”

I growled, but stopped when my eyes spotted the curvacious blonde standing a few markets down trading in a few dragon pelts.  She seemed rather displaced among all of the bulky men in her feminine skirt.  Without realizing it, I began to stare at her.

“That is no way to look at a lady.  Weren’t you ever told it is impolite to stare?” she asked.

“I am sorry, ma’am.  It is just that you are…” I stumbled over the words, my voice stymied by her beauty.

“Unique?” she twittered.

I was hesitant in my response, but her laugh was encouraging.  “Well…  It’s just that…”

“You don’t see many other girls here?” she continued to answer for me.

I nodded.  At that point, I was so preoccupied with here that I did not notice the infuriated man come up behind me.

“You’re quite an audacious young man to be talking to my wife,” he bellowed.

With a start, I turned around to see the man glaring icily at me.  “Terribly sorry, sir!” I whimpered.  “I was simply ambling around, minding my own business.  We just happened to bump into each other!” I lied.

Before the man could say anything else, I left the market.  There was no use getting in a fight!  Besides that, I also had some dragons to catch if I didn’t want to be looked at as a newcomer, and so the vicious cycle began.  I would catch a dragon, bring it to market, and meet that girl.  Oh, how I wish I only knew the huntress’s name…

With only one day left to live,

What would you do?

What would you say?

Where would you go?

Would you make it worth

An entire life’s time?

The thing about time

Is it seems that once you live

Through it, you have spent all it’s worth.

It seems no matter what you do,

You will have nowhere to go–

You will have no say.

Yet you have a say,

Death is not the end of time.

Death will lead you wherever you wish to go,

And let you live the life you want to live.

All you have to do,

Is live life for all it’s worth.

But if your life is worth,

Little more than what a dog might say,

What can you do?

What could you do with all the time

That eternity after death gives you to live.

Where would you go?

On the last day, you must go

And do something that will make life worth

A thousand lives which one can live,

A thousand words which one can say,

And you can use the rest of your time,

To do a thousand things which one can do.

For if you do

Something important the end will let you go

To a place where time

Has no worth,

You could even say

That after death, there is more for which to live.

So if you had one day to live, what would you do?

Would what you say and where you would go

Make your life and afterlife worth all of time?

The land is all his.

He is the ruler,

The leader,

The King.

The ruler measures out his kingdom,

Judging what is his,

And protecting those within his bounds.

The ruler counts it out,

Leaving no amount unmeasured.

His decisions are clear and definite.

And without him,

There would be no distance,

No kingdom,

No domain.

And so the ruler sits and waits,

Until he is needed once more.

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(Halloween story from last year.)

Heaven… There’s no place on Earth that can even come close to its beauty! Ehrin knew that, and so did every other person who went there upon death. It was a shame that someone so young would find this out, but that carriage’s coach just wasn’t paying attention to the road.

It was just a typical day in paradise. She was playing with her old dog, Jester, when something started feeling wrong. It felt as though a weight had been attached to her leg, and speedily it pulled her through the cloud floor.

“JESTER!!!!” she shouted up to the dog. The dog only howled sorrowfully and watched her plummet to the Earth.

There was a sickening crunch as she landed on her back. She cried loudly and tried to move her wings. Even trying hurt. She sat up and looked back at them. They were now hanging limply, contorted.

With a sniffle, she stood up and looked at where she landed. Quickly, she recognized it as the graveyard where she had been buried… she wasn’t even sure how long it had been. Something was wrong, though. She knew this was the spot where her body lay, yet the headstone wasn’t there. There had certainly been one there!

“Ah… So THIS is Ehrin…” a deep voice laughed from behind her.

She whirled around, blonde curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Wh-who are you?” she asked.

A smile spread across the man’s lips. “Paul Hunter, m’lady,” he said, bowing deeply to her, black hair shimmering in the moonlight as dark eyes looked her over.

Her lower lip quivered. “Wh-what do you want with me?” she asked.

“Calm now, child,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright!”

“My wings! They hurt!” she whimpered.

“Don’t worry. It won’t last for long.” He draped an arm over her shoulders and led her away from the graveyard.

She tried to break away from him. “My headstone! I see it!” she cried, running toward a tiny stone leaning against the church. “I need it!”

Paul grabbed her arm. “No! You’re mine now!” he said, pulling her away. If she grabbed that tombstone, she would surely return to the afterlife. He’d already learned THAT lesson.

“LET GO!!!!” she shouted at him.

“No!” he hissed, dragging her from the graveyard. “I need you’re help, pesky brat!”

Tears began falling from her blue eyes. “B-but… Heaven! I have to go back!”

He continued to drag her away. “I have somewhere else for you to go. My bothersome sister needs to be taught a lesson, and you’re gonna help me teach it!”

She continued to cry, but to no avail, as Paul pulled her into a… motorized carriage?… and took her away from her graveyard. As she looked around at the faces of other tortured spirits, she abandoned all hope of ever returning to Heaven.