"Iris" - soon to be discontinued

[herm-own-ninny]

Characters
... more to come

IrisAngieSteph
PhillDannyJimmyWill

Ered Usha

Miss ElizaGretchen

This is chapter 1 or I guess it could be the prologue. I haven't really decided.

in any case, I want you all to tell me every thing that I can improve on in this ... thing. When I say everything, I mean everything. I don't care if it's spelling or punctuation. I want you to be brutal, but within reason. You can't say that is sucks and then walk away. Tell me why.


Warning this is extrodinarily long. Sorry you guys, that's just they way things are.


This is also not all of it. There wasn't enough room.

[herm-own-ninny]

In order to preserve the historical events that have happened to me in the past year or so I have decided to write a book. If you are looking for happy little story to entertain yourself in your probably boring life, please drop this book right now and find something else. If you want to know the facts about an obscure piece about history (even if it is more or less farther into the future than you at your present) than please continue. I could use the royalties that come from you buying this book.
Now, You are probably getting quite frustrated with me. Maybe you're thinking something along the lines of get on with it, but I assure you that I will soon be getting to the point. I just have a few little facts that must be taken into account before we can dutifully begin.
First off, this is between the years of 3003 and 3014. I know, I know, that's pretty darn well into the future for you. Don't get you're undies in a bundle. The reason being that Humans couldn't have migrated anywhere unless they had somewhere they could go. Most of the 1000 years was spent readying a large body of mass into a livable environment. This large mass is, of course, Mars. I'll get into the details later, but for now, you will have to do with that little tid-bit of information.
Second: if you have any questions on the scientific facts that are needed to understand some of the logic that weave their way into these pages, please see the scientific handbook in the beginning of this book. Likewise, if you have questions on the magical aspects, or aspects of myth in the universe, see the Magical handbook, also located in the beginning. I will try to explain on the way, but I may leave out some subjects in the text as to not to bore you the reader (plus is saves on ink.)
Thirdly, please take into account that all the historical facts are accurate. Though this may seem to you like a science fiction novel that someone wrote to waste your, and the author's (that would be me) precious time. Needless to say, that is all utter and complete hogwash. If you believe that complete ludicrous statement, than I highly disapprove of your reading this. I know I can't control your actions to put this piece of writing down, but I can encourage it.
I believe that is all the facts that need revealing as of now.
Let's start from the beginning, shall we.
As I'm sure many of you understand, I don't remember my birth. I have been told that my parents were so happy and proud. Maybe they thought that I was the perfect little bundle, with my small tiny hands and feet, and little tiny fingernails. They were so glad that I had finally arrived.
That is, until I opened my eyes.
My eyes on a regular day when nothing goes wrong, they are a golden yellow, with tiny bits of tint of what ever emotion is strongest. Blue, or purple maybe, but no one really notices the flecks of color.
I guess that it was my yellow eyes, what ever color was mixed with them, that worried my parents. Maybe they didn't like to think that I wasn't normal, or perhaps they thought the color of my eyes was a disease that could be treated.
What ever the reason, they kept taking me from doctor to doctor trying to figure out why I was different. They didn't have much luck. Every doctor told them that I was perfectly healthy, and that my yellow eyes were probably just a birth defect. One doctor went as far as saying that my eyes made me even more beautiful.
Not that my parents ever listened, of course.
Every few months, they traveled to another doctor to ask them what to do. The doctors responses did everything but calm them. They went crazy, traveling from place to place and not getting any closer to getting an answer. Eventually, they decided that it wasn't worth spending the money (they spent half their savings in one year). We settled down in one of the big cities. I would tell you it's name, except I doubt that you would know it (It didn't become big until about 2099 after thousands flooded to the city when a team of scientists discovered how to make a new kind one-on-one weapon that is far more efficient than guns, but that's a totally different story).
When I was about eight years old I began to have this nagging head ache. Not your normal straight on ache, mind you, but one that was more of a buzz. In the back of my head was starting to feel like it was going to explode. I told my parents this, but they couldn't find anything wrong. I didn't have a fever, according to my mother's thermometer, anyway. Most anyone would say that it was only a head-ache, and that it would only take time to get better.
But my parents, being as paranoid of my health as they were, quickly sent me to the doctor.
I don't really remember what the doctor did. He might have looked at my brain with some special equipment, or he might have just told my parents that it was only a head ache and not to be bringing me in on something so trivial as a head-ache.
All I knew was that he prescribed some pills for me to take, and that these pills had no effect what-so-ever.
My head continued to buzz and my parents continued to fuss. "You must take you're pills, dear." "Don't forget those pills." The nagging was relentless in both my parents and my head. It was all I could do to get to sleep at night.
Over the next few weeks, the buzzing lessened, and I was able to stop and think about what was going on. I couldn't quite figure it out, being as I had been spending most of my time around adults who were complete worry warts (just guess who I'm talking about.). But soon I was able to decipher the pattern. It would probably take a whole book to explain every pattern, but it's not so different from sound waves or something of the like.
After maybe a month I knew every emotion when it was all by itself. When someone was feeling both, say, terrified and over-joyed, my brain wasn't able to understand it. I knew that it was probably not going to take as long for me to decipher these if I kept working at it, but it would take a while all the same.
I would lay in bed at night, long before my parents went to bed, sending my brain waves over in their general direction trying to make sense of the waves my brain was intercepting. After what seemed like a decade, I was happy to say I understood almost all of the emotions so well that I did it unconsciously and without effort. After that, the ache in my head-ache seemed to go away completely, only flaring up occasionally, when I let all the emotions of the city wash over me.
A few weeks longer, I was able to block out all emotions, even if it only lasted a minute when I was awake. When I was asleep, my mind automatically shut down all my functions except the vital ones, and thereby shutting the part of my brain that read the emotions.
The only thing was, when I blocked all the emotions out, I became exhausted for half an hour or more. It almost didn't seem worth it, so I only used it when I was trying to sleep.
By the time I had done all this, it was my ninth birthday. My parents invited a few of my classmates over, though weather I like any or all of them remained to be seen. We had cake, ice cream, and played all sorts of small fun childish games. My parents were worrying about something or another. I decided that at the end of the party would be a great time to show off my power, and try to help them. I can't be sure, but I think I had suddenly gone to the nut house with my great aunt Susan (how she got into the loony-bin is a totally different story all together, so don't bother me with it.).
After deciding this crazy idea, the party seemed to drag on for hours. I tried to stay involved with the party, but my mind was elsewhere. Probably off with some grand idea of being praised for figuring out the head-ache problem. No one seemed to notice my odd staring off into space. Why should they care? They all thought I was too much of a geinius to even relate to.
Eventually the party ended, and the parents of the other children came to pick them up. Most of them were genuinely happy (though why, I hadn't the faintest idea.)
My parents were starting to clean up the mess that had been made, muttering about never invited those kids over again, when I walked in and stared at them.
"Honey, what is it. Do you need your medicine again?"
"No."
"Is something wrong?"
"Not with me."
My parents were at a loss for words. "Then what is it?"
"I want to know why you're so worried." I was probably a little too straight forward, but hey, I was nine! What kind of judgment do you think a nine-year-old has? Not very much, I can tell you that.
"W-w-w-what do you mean, Iris?" my mother asked nervously. If her emotions could have been vibrating on a higher frequency, she would have been in hysterics. Oddly enough, she was quite close to it, though my father was pretty much already there. He just handled his hysterics differently.
"What'd you mean! We're not worried! Why would we be worried," he started, half shouting, half ranting, "We certainly aren't worried about anything..." He continued ranting for several minutes, practically boring me to death by repeating things over and over again.
"He's right, dear," my mother replied, trying to be soothing, but obviously failing miserably. She was wringing her hands, again, and looking from side, eyes wild with worry. Even if I didn't sense the worry emitting from her, I could known with only a quick glance.
All the while, my father continued to rant, providing more of a backdrop to the noise in my head. They worried easily, and they were both now, almost to their breaking point.
"I know you're worried." At that, the sound of the room got louder. My parents immediately put up protests of "How do you know?" and "What makes you think so," and the like.
"I can sense it!" Then I didn't think much of what I said, but seconds later I knew that I all hell broke loose, thanks to my amazing choice of words.
My father, pretty much broke down, muttering something about how he knew something was wrong with me, while my mother almost feinted dead away. The dog, who had been watching for sometime by then, started barking up a storm so much that I couldn't think straight. If there had been an explosion outside the window, I wouldn't have noticed, save for the bits of debris that it would have left behind. Fortunately, there was no explosion. I don't think I would have had enough resilience to fight off the second explosion that would have no doubtable gone off in my brain.
After a few hours of a buzzing brain, fussing parents, and a barking dog everything settled down. That is to say, things settled down long enough for us all to go to bed. I should have known what would come of this. It was stupid to think they'd be happy about that. Sure, most parents might have been happy (at least at first), but not my parents. They didn't like the thought of their daughter not being a normal child. It's kind of strange, when you think about it. Well, when I think about it, after all, I know what happens while you're stuck reading this part until the story gets good.
The next day, I woke up to find my parents extremely fussy. I hadn't a clue what I had gotten my self into, even then, after what would one day be called "the incident" between my parents and me.
"Did you call in?"
"I just got off the phone, dear."
"And..."
"And they said they'd schedule an appointment for today, as requested. Don't worry, everything will be all right."
"What will be alright?" I asked, no longer able to contain my self.
As one, my parents turned to look at me. The look they gave me was not unlike one might give if they were looking at a person they believed to be dead. I guessed they thought I was still asleep.
"Everything, sweetie. We're going to the doctor." my mother cooed.
"Again?" I whined. I didn't particularly like the doctor. He was old, smelly, his fingers were too cold, and had a very monotone voice. (I didn't know that word then, but I suppose that's what one might call it.)
Her smiled faded slightly, "yes, dear, again."
I gave her one of my pouty faces, and went to go read something. I always found that reading made everything all better. By the time I had finished the book (it was one of those childish books that has more pictures on every other page -or so it seemed - , so it was finished within five minutes) my parents came in, and told me we were leaving. I got up and went with them to the Mobil.
Okay, you're probably think that it's a car. No, it's a different way of getting around, and nothing like a car. Alright, maybe a little, but it doesn't have wheels. It kind of uses air pressure on the ground, and a magnetic pulse to move. See, the earth's inner core has a lot of iron ore which is one of the kinds of metallic substances that magnetized objects are pulled too (this is why compasses work). Anyway, it's built similar to cars, same structure, since many people don't like change, which is completely irrational in my opinion. Then again, so are a lot of things people do, like their fear of magic for instance, but that's a whole different subject, that we shall get into at a later time.
As I was saying, we got into the Mobil to go to the doctor's office on the other side of town, which didn't seem fair to me. I felt perfectly healthy, but that wasn't about to stop my parents. When have adults ever listened to little children like myself, regardless of how smart the child is. If you have a story where they have, don't tell me. I have enough on my plate without you pushing other stories that have little to nothing to do with the one that I am writing right now. You've been warned.
The city didn't have hardly any colors at all. O there might have been a neon light here and there, and little bit of pealing paint on a few of the signs, but other than that, it was all concrete. Despite the blaring sun above, the city almost radiated a dreariness that added to the faces of the people walking around. There was no flare or culture to this poor excuse of a big city.
When, after about five minutes of driving, we finally reached our destination. It was one of those modern looking buildings that looked cold and emotionless. I couldn't sense any real strong feelings coming from there. I figured it was because they cleaned it of all emotions. You know, to the point that if feels alien, even if you had been in there a thousand times (like myself). I suppose the designers felt the same because they placed real lively and emotional paintings in the reception area and waiting areas.
After my parents signed in, and we sat in the waiting room staring at old magazines, we were called down by a nurse to see the doctor. She was real nice. One of those people you would swear you knew your whole life, even if you just met them. You know the kind.
Anyway, we had been waiting for a few minutes, and I tried to find something interesting to do (which was hard work, seeing as there wasn't even anything interesting to look at) when the Doctor Morrison (that's his name, by the way. I forgot to mention that) came in. Like I said before, he was old. His grizzly gray hair was balding in the front and middle, and was long in back. The hair that he seemed to have lost was growing in his ears, which was kind of disturbing. Brown eyes under unkempt grey eyebrows stared at me, probably trying to figure out what could be wrong with me. I couldn't exactly blame him. I was
"Now, what seems to be the problem this time?" he asked, his voice sounding scratchy and sore, like he used it too much.
"Our daughter seems to be channeling our emotions." My father said matter of factly.
The doctor chuckled, "Is that so. Do you have any proof."
"Ask her what you're feeling right now." my mother challenged.
"Certainly. Now child," he began, turning to me, "can you tell me how I'm feeling now?"
I concentrated. His waves were coming across so softly I could barely make them out. As soon as I figured them out I told him. "Bored, with a mix of hunger, and a hope that you could hurry this up so you can go to lunch. Oh, and you also don't think this little meeting is important enough for your time." I stared at him, unblinkingly. In return he stared at me with shock and disbelief. He shook himself back to his senses, and sent me down for a few test, mainly on my brain. It wasn't really all that fun, but I won't go into details now.
He told us to go home and come back in the morning, which we did. The next day, he sat us in the same room, (only this time with toys and a white board that I could draw on if I got bored during their discussion, which of course I didn't. I found it all quite interesting.). He talked (at length I might add) about how there was an unexplainable amount of brain activity in the back of my head, and how everything else seemed pretty normal. My parents rebutled with talks of how unbearable it would be to live with someone who knew what they were thinking and feeling (to which I replied I can only sense feelings, not thoughts. They didn't seem to care much and just ignored me). Pretty soon they were fighting over something about the relevance of weather or not it would be "unbearable" to live with someone like that.
"I'd like to see you try!" my father snapped, jumping to his feet.
"I'm not saying that it doesn’t have anything to do with the situation. I'm just saying that this whole discussion is nothing about what is happening between you and your daughter. It's about finding what is ‘wrong’ with her. Personally, and professionally mind, I don't think she is in the midst of any kind of scientifically trouble."
"What are you saying it is?"
"I'm saying that this brain activity may be more of a... magical problem."
"Magical? Are you saying that she's been curse by a witch? That is ludicrous! Witches don't exist, and neither do curses or magic, for that matter. You of all people, Doctor, should know better than that."
"I'm not saying..."
"Liar!" my mother howled, "That's exactly what you are saying and you know it."
"Now, now, ma'am. I don't intend to imply that I personally believe that magic exists. I am just saying that this activity may not be a problem at all. For all I know. It could in fact be a freak of nature that she can sense emotions. Have you ever asked her about any of this?"
"Well..."
"See! She can't express what is happening to her, if you don't talk about it! Go on. Ask her now what she thinks of all this." The doctor, with a smug look upon his face, sat back in his chair as he watched my parents faces exchange looks of guilt. "Well?"
My father gave him an angry glare and turned to me.
Now, I had been watching this argument with minimal interest. I had already finished playing and drawing. Besides, with all the fury coming from both sides, it was hard to concentrate.
"Honey. Why don't you explain to mommy and daddy and the nice doctor what you think about your..." he searched for the right word, "powers."
"I think it is magic," I replied, earnestly, "Think about it dad. What kind of sci-en-tif-i-cal “-I couldn't pronounce it correctly- "problem has to do with sensing feelings?" He thought about what I said for a moment, and turned to the doctor again.
"Where do you suggest we go."
"Wait a darn minute," the doctor fumed, "You aren't suggesting that I know someone you might be able to contact with some magical problem? That is an insult to the years I spent in medical school. It's an abomination to even think such a thing."
"Then who do you suggest we turn to?"
Both men grew quiet for a moment, although, to be honest, one was emitting a more hostile wave into the air that the other. The doctor, however, was deep in thought, considering something.
"I know one person you could go to," he started slowly, almost regretting the words as he said them.
"Where?" Mom asked, desperately, giving a silencing glare to her husband, who looked about to start another fight with the doctor
"She's my niece, you see," the doctor continued, " and runs a magic shop. Though why she chose that particular line of..."
"Tell me where!" she demanded, again.
The doctor considered her again.
"Go to number three Thistle street. That's t-h-i-s-..."
"I know how to spell, sir."
"I never said you couldn't." We were about to leave when he stopped us and added, "If you wouldn't mind telling the shop keeper there, that... That I will come visit some time."
"Certainly, doctor, and thank you."
We left, not having the faintest idea as to what we were starting.

[Forum Administration]

Interesting...but I few issues I have with this:

~What is the author's motivation for sending this story 1000 years back in time? That's a pretty big risk to the time continuim to tell someone "Look primitive people of the past! My life is really messed up!"
~magic and technology don't co-exist together very well. You either have one or the other as your main source of energy. If you're going to have people that specialize in using magic- there's no need for technology. Why invent high tech methods of transportation when u can just magick a Ford Angela to fly(don't forget the invisibilty booster). I'm not quite sure how you're incorporating magic here, so just keep that in mind.
~The part where her parents find out about her powers is a little sketchy. I'd have the character explain what she means by "sensing it" a little before her parents catch on and go nuts. Because "sensing it" doesn't nessecarily mean empathically, there's sometimes pysical clues to tell you how a person feels. I'd have her parents say something along the lines of "but we weren't acting worried at all" and then she goes into a little more detail about how she sensed it, then go into the crazy freak-out scene, which is very nice btw. ;D

So, yeah, just think about those things please, on a lighter note:

~excellent main character, she's definatly got depth
~Good story going in general, I'm definaly intrigued

[pythonheart]

yeah i like it too
yay grammer errors! - weather should be whether, unless talking about the weather. ;D
- um..i guess thats it, or atleast what i can remember
oh and is headache one word or two? i dunno, i thought it was one*shrug*
but yeah i like the story, i wanna read more ;D

[Forum Administration]

I think it's one word.

[herm-own-ninny]

Yeah, one word.

any who, songbreese, the magic/technology thing is kinda weird, but I think I can explain it. See, the "magic" is kinda the same as science. A little sci-fi ish with the fantastical way about it. It's a little too sketchy at this point, but it is, hopefully, going to be better understood.

The motivation is revealed at the end, or so I plan. I might tell you if you beg.

I'm not sure what.... oh wait, I totally get it now. never mind. Yeah, wording leaves much to be desired. I'll definately work on that, thanks!

;D


I think the rest will be posted... now. Well, the rest of this part. maybe it will answer a few questions/

[herm-own-ninny]

"Is this the place?"
"Number three Thistle drive." My father read aloud, " Yep, this is the place."
I took a look around. Chances were I wasn't going to come out of this place quick enough. It was an ordinary looking building. Solid concrete created it's walls and it had a tainted glass door. On the wooden sign above it, in peeling gold paint and flowing print were the words "Magic Shop". How original is that! I rolled my eyes.
"Mommy, do we have to go in there?" I whined.
"Yes!" she replied forcefully, then turned to my dad. "Perhaps we should go inside now. It's a bit chilly out here." Leave it to Mom to think of an excuse for everything (every thing, of course, except my "problem", but we shan't get into that now.) It wasn't even a good excuse! It was perfectly pleasant outside with a little sun and a soft breeze. Then again Mom got cold very easy.
"Yes, we should go in." He was about to open the door when he stopped and said, "Do you suppose we should knock first."
"Of for heaven's sake! It's a shop!” I complained. My parents glared at me, but said nothing. Instead, they actually opened the door. Slowly they crept inside. I on the other hand, simply bounced right it. (Perhaps they were afraid that there was some curse set upon the shop for people who didn't knock or ring the door bell.)
It was much cozier inside. There were elaborate tapestries covering all the walls and a roaring fireplace over to the side. Tables were set up with hundreds of objects that I didn't have a name for, along with scented candles and incense for sale. The cherry wood floor was almost bare save for a small rug by the fire place the room was red and felt much more like home then my house a few streets away.
"Well this is... nice," my mother said cautiously, (and if I might add a bit of disgust, but you would have had to have been in my head to discover that.)
"You like?" a small voice called from the back of the room. "I decorated it myself, not like other shop owners who like to have a professional come in and do it for them. Professional what I would like to ask them, but I probably won't get an answer. In the least, not the one I'm looking for."
The woman who spoke had a slight build, and had brown hair that was already getting speckles of grays. Her brown eyes stared at us in a caring and loving way, but also mysteriously. She looked like she belonged to a time farther back, and far more magical then our time. Like from a story book, I thought.
"Now, you didn't come in here to listen to my babble. Is there something I can help you with? Perhaps a family problem?"
She reads minds! I thought instantly, then silently scolded myself for such foolishness. She probably just deducted us being a family. But I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else

Now, we'll stop here to explain my thinking. I probably just sent you for a loop. I have been saying from the beginning of this written text that I whole heartedly believed in magic. Well, for the most part that is true, but of course you leave out that tiny little fact that this is me at age nine. People change over time, even if only slightly. Now I believe in magic and "preach" it to everybody I meet, but nine year old me doesn't quite believe that yet.
Another thing you are probably wondering. Nine-year-old me had said earlier that she believed that magic created the whole sensing-feelings-thing, but in truth she isn't sure. To be quite honest, she believes it is more of a science than actual magic. She is a girl of fact and reasoning, and it'll take more of a push to convince her. I should know. She is me, after all.

Now where were we? Right.
I was trying to shake of the "magic" feeling I was getting. I wasn't sensing anything from her, which was odd. Sometimes I get an extraordinarily feint reading from the "data base" in my head, but it never goes away completely from one person.
"Well, yes, ma'am..."
"Please, my name is Miss Eliza, not ma'am. It sounds far too much like you are being a suck-up."
"Not in front of our child!" My mother gasped.
"Momma, I've heard that before!" Ignoring me, she gave Miss Eliza a frightfully angry look. Granted, her angry looks aren't all that angry looking, but she does her best.
"Sorry, ms ... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your surname." My parent's looked at each other like they didn't understand her. Miss Eliza sighed, " Last name."
"Oh, yes, it's Bazzare." Miss Eliza raised her eyebrows at them.
"My, oh my, now that's an interesting name, one that I haven't heard in quite a while..." Miss Eliza looked away in reminiscence of something. I wouldn't be able to tell you if it was happy sad, or something in between, because I still couldn't receive any waves.
"Well, that's nice and all, but if you wouldn't mind..."
"Ah, yes. Sorry about that. I sometimes get off track. Shall we sit?" She gestured to a couple of red, plump, squishy, soft sofas that had been squashed into a corner. I hurried over to them immediately sat down. It was one of those sofas that you knew from the moment of setting your rump on would be hard to get out of.
"Thank you," both my parents muttered before they too sat down.
"Certainly," she replied kindly, before sitting down as well, "now, what seems to be the problem?" She looked at my parent's expectedly.
"Ummm... it seems that our child, Iris, can sense emotions."
"I see, and you've seen a doctor I take it."
"Several million," I chimed in. It was a close enough figure.
"I see. Who is it that recommended you. I can tell that you don't truly believe in the magical arts by the way that you look disdainfully at the objects in my shop." She said the last few words with a slight bit of anger, which I, finally, caught with the "radar" that I have in my head. It only lasted a moment. "Even if you did believe in magic, I very much doubt that you would have known about this shop off the street," she continued, "since few people come in here, and I don't advertise at all."
"Um, I think it was Dr. Morrison."
"Who!" Miss Eliza in surprise. It was funny, I sensed that too.
"Dr. Morrison. Which reminds me, he told us to tell you that he would be by soon," Dad relayed to her.
Pause.
"Did he say when he'd come?"
"I don't recall him saying anything like that."
She swore. I would be able to tell you what she said if my mother hadn't covered up my ears at the last second.
"How dare you use that kind of language in front of my kid. Are you crazy."
"Mum."
"This is madness.
"MOM!" She finally had stopped long enough for me to say , "I've probably heard worse!"
"That doesn't make it any better, dear," Miss Eliza replied softly, "I am sorry for use of such vulgar. It won't happen again." She smiled, and I smiled back.
'I am sorry, child. I promise you that I won't use any inappropriate words again,' the voice promised in my head once more.
'What do you want?' I thought silently.
'I want you to stay here,' the voice stated -I tried not to show it, but I was surprised it replied, 'with me, and learn to properly harness your power. It's obvious to me that your parents don't appreciate it. I know how hard it is to harness your power by yourself. Stay here, and I can teach you everything I know.'
'And how much is that?' I thought back harshly.
'A good deal more than you think.'
Mean while, Mom and Miss Eliza were going at it over her choice of words. "I don't care how sorry you are, or your stupid promises. You shouldn't have been swearing at all!"
"Again, I am sorry, but there is no way for me to take back what is past. If you want more than that, I'm afraid you will have to find some magical way for time to rewind itself. Believe me, it's not in any of these books, I've checked."
"Than what do you propose I do about it," demanded Mom.
"Forgive me of my dreadful sin," Miss Eliza challenged. Mom went quiet for a moment, then finally forgave her.
"Now, about your girl. What is it that bothers you?"
"Do you not get it. Our daughter can read our emotions, for all we know, our thoughts too!"
"Oh I seriously doubt that she can do that. Empaths don't read minds."
'Are you paying attention.' the voice asked angrily.
'yes.'
'good.'
"Besides, even if she could, she probably isn't that powerful. Yet, anyhow. I suggest a mentorship with me. I'll house her, feed her, and give her schooling. You can visit her any time you like."
"What'll this cost us?" Dad asked, suddenly business-like.
"Lower than you'd expect."
"I don't like this," Mom put in, "I don't like feeling we're selling our baby girl off."
"You're not."
"I won't give my girl to some stranger!"
"Mom, you won't be!"
"Iris! Don't talk back. This does not concern you."
"But it's my life at stake! I want to stay here!"
"What!" Bad idea upsetting ol' papa bear. I bet he didn't see that one coming. I wonder why they didn't want to send me off in the first place. Oh well, no sense in worrying over spilt milk, huh.
"Dad, you can visit me, and I can learn how to control this 'power' I've got. This way you don't have to worry. Dad, It'll be fine."
"Fine! Leaving you to someone we don't know, only visiting every now and then," Mom protested, "I won't leave my daughter here."
"It's your decision," Miss Eliza cut in, "but I highly recommend leaving her here."
My parents got up, and beckoned me to do so as well, which was hard, since the sofa was so squishy and soft. "Our answer is no. Come on, Iris, we're leaving."
I looked back at Miss Eliza, she nodded, and I heard the voice one last time. 'Visit me, and I can at least teach you something to help you control it more. Next time you have a chance?'
'Next time I have a chance.'
And then we left.
A week later I took a transport back to her shop, only to find that she was not there. It had been sold and placed under new ownership, and had nothing to do with magic. Granted, a shop, especially a shop specializing in magic in the middle of the science age in one of the most modern cities of the world, would eventually be sold, even under the best of circumstances. The strangest thing about the whole situation was the response I had gotten when I asked the owner if he knew where the shop had gone.
"Missy, I've been here for three years, I don't have a clue as to where your little friend is. Now, go run off to your mommy, I have things to do."

[Forum Administration]

oooo...interesting....

[herm-own-ninny]

thanks!

[musicfreak15]

I want more!!!

[herm-own-ninny]

you'll get it. just not now. I don't have the disk with me. I'll try and post the next bit tomorrow.

thanks. I like that you want more of this.

[herm-own-ninny]

okay, this is gonna be cut weird. Don't blame me if you don't get it, though, I think I explain well enough.

Woa! The entire length is 25 pages!

Here you are:

"Good Morning, Izzy!" the prerecorded voice on my alarm clock sang a little too cheerfully, especially this early in the morning. I emitted a low groan in response.
"Good morning, Izzy!" it repeated.
"Can't you take a hint?" I asked groggily.
"Good morning, Izzy!" It replied. 'I take that's a no,' I thought angrily as I hit the snooze button on the wall. I laid there for a few moments trying to remember something I think I had forgotten. After a while i decided to let it pass, and get up for work.
Pulling myself out of bed, I risked a look at the clock face on the wall, which read; 5:31. Yep, definitely time to get up. I stood up and looked around at the now familiar looking room. It was pretty plain, but that was partly because all the rest of my stuff was still in boxes, and partly because I haven't had time or money to decorate the rest of it. Mr. and Mrs., Hart offered to pay for everything to be decorated by a professional, but I didn't want to impose too much of their hospitality. After all, they were already housing and feeding me.
Boxes were pretty much the only things in the plain room besides a desk and my bed (the clock had been built into the wall, so that doesn't count). I hadn't really gotten around to unpacking them, there were only about five, but one of them was completely filled with pictures and paintings, and another with books. Nothing had anything to give the room any taste, what-so-ever.
I wandered over to the bathroom to go shower, and get ready, most of my clothes were unpacked in there, so I hadn't grabbed anything to change into.
The shower did me good. It woke me up just enough, without shocking me awake like caffeine usually would. I put a minimal amount of make-up on, brushed my short brown hair, and inspected my clothes (you have to make sure they are clean enough to wear). They were clean enough. Maybe they weren't pressed and steamed, but they didn't stink yet, so I took that as a good sign. I pulled on my dark blue pants and white sleeveless top. Feeling that I was almost ready, I put on the silver locket my mom gave me, and put a pair of silver earrings.
"Good morning, Izzy! Sleep well?" asked a happy voice, that sounded a little too much like the voice on my alarm clock, but that was because this was the guy who had recorded it for me.
"Morning, Mr. Hart." He was a tad plump, and not really all that tall, and had light brown curly hair and bright blue eyes that always gave the impression that he was always excited about what you were saying. "Angie up yet?"
"Oh, you know Angie. She'll sleep 'till noon unless you make her get up." he replied jokingly, "No; she's still asleep in her room."
"And Mrs. Hart is off at work?"
"Yep. Do you have work today?"
"Of course. It is Saturday."
"Well, I mean, don't you have your birthday off?" So that's what I forgot. I knew it was something.
"I don't think so. Mr. Brown isn't into giving people a day off simply because they were born."
"Ah, well then, you should grab some breakfast here. Your father would have a fit if he thought we weren't feeding you." He smirked.
"Yeah, he would. Hey, would you mind lending me five bits to call...er... someone?"
"Sure," he replied, digging in his pocket and pulling out a few pieces of paper that read "one bit"
"Thanks, Mr. Hart."
"Any time, Izzy." I was heading out the door when he continued, "don't forget to eat."
"I won't," I replied, with a grin, and quickly grabbed a tube of "Omelet flavored breakfast meal paste" ('It's delicious and nutritious') that had been sitting on the counter and stuffed it in my pocket. "Bye," I called back and walked out the door.
It was a relatively nice day outside of the large marble house that the Harts had bought in Namrac. The shadow of the Hart manor almost reached to the other side of the street. They lived on the nicer side of town, which had all the nice expensive shops. I might have chosen to work in one of those, but none of them are really all that interesting.
I quickly walked to the garage, grabbed my H-board and pulled on a helmet. I knew that if either the Hart parents had an inkling that I wasn't wearing a helmet, they wouldn't let me ride my board anymore. That would be truly tragic as I would have to ride with Mrs. Hart to work, and that could mean long detours and being late. Mr. Brown detested lateness.
I was so wrapped up in thinking about what Mr. Brown would do if I was late that I clear ran into Someone off the street. He was tall gangly and thin, with short dark hair and bright blue eyes that gave him the almost permanent look of innocence on his face.
"Sorry," I apologized quickly. He was already standing, and holding out his hand to help me up off the ground. "I can get up myself, thanks," I snapped, and pulled myself up without his help.
"of course," he replied, apologetically, "I was just being polite."
"I'm sure you were. Now, if you would move, I have to get to work."
"Work? A girl like you?" he replied, in a feinted sort of exasperated voice.
"What's so surprising about that?"
"Well, based on the quality of your hair cut and your clothing, I would say you live in a home with a considerable amount of money. Of course all that doesn't necessarily mean that you are rich, but it does mean that you don't really need to have a job. Not like some families do."
"Is it so wrong to want to do something productive."
"Join a sport team at school," he shrugged.
"And where exactly would that get me?" I snapped, "Besides, I don't like to do any sports, or go to any sporting events of any type."
"Why?"
"I don't like crowds," I replied simply.
"I see." He paused. "How big is a crowd."
To be quite honest, I was expecting him to ask why. My mind reeled. 'An interesting question deserves an interesting answer' I thought meekly. "Eleven, although, more isn't so bad, it depends on how high emotions are running." 'there,' I thought smugly, 'I bet he wasn't even expecting that answer.'
On the contrary, it seemed he was amused by it.
"Well, then. I'll keep that in mind. Hey, maybe you could go out for golf."
"Golf? And where exactly is this golf team. I don't see too many golf courses. Not with that damned wall there, anyway."
"Ahh... but there is a simulator that they often play with."
I glared at him. I couldn't believe it. he was playing me at my own game of debate, but the sad thing was... he was winning. "I'll think about it," I replied simply, and he smiled broadly.
"Alright then. Say, which way are you headed?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Oh, because I have a hard time finding my way around Namrac."


Sorry, I have to interrupt there. I keep forgetting that you are so far behind. After all. To me it's like I'm writing to the people in history, therefore, I have to explain a lot of things I normally take for granted as common knowledge. I'll take this opportunity to explain about Namrac.
Namrac is - at this point- the only Human settlement on Mars. Other cities will follow, naturally, but they won't be constructed for years after this particular story ends. It's the first true human colonized city and will remain mostly inhabited by only humans for near a century.
In the beginning, it was used mainly as experiments as well as to see if Mars could eventually hold carbon based life forms, a.k.a. human beings. They brought up all sorts of half dead plants up, planted them, and waited to see what would happen. Slowly, over at least a thousand years, as the plants prospered and created oxygen and other elements of air came to be on mars, the atmosphere developed until it was thought by scientists and astrologers that it was safe to bring up other people.
Not too many people volunteered to be brought there out of fear that it would result in their death. but the few who did, survived. Soon thousands wanted to go create a new life in the new world. Thousands from every country flocked to the nearest space ship ready for landing. At first it cost very little money -well, very little for a trip to another planet anyway- but soon the ride cost rocketed to more than most could afford. I was one of the first to sign up- after the first trial volunteers of course- but that is a story to be told later
In the first few months only a few buildings had been roughly constructed, mainly out of material that could be closed in case of dangerous gases or any of those planet wide sand storms that tended to appear. They still make buildings in a similar way, in case of such a storm, but they do so in order not to compensate for style of beauty. After the first thousand came with many more a thousand on it's way, they decided to construct a large wall. At first the people of the city that they named Namrac (for reason's unknown to myself) thought that it was to try to make the sand storms a little more bearable. Then they discovered that it did very little to stop the storms at all. Somewhere along the line someone, some how began to think it was for a very different reason.
Thus starting a very large rumor that, even now during this time in which the story takes place, the people beloved one-hundred percent true.
Aliens.
I know. What kind of person would believe such a thing. People with half a brain, I'm sure. In any case, that's what they believed. At first the rumor was that the government was simply trying to keep a safe distance from the Aliens, but then it began to grow into Aliens trying to eliminate our race from the planet. Even threatening a few lives to make us leave, and that the government had been trying to hide it from all the people.

[musicfreak15]

I love it!!!! MORE!!!! *please*

[herm-own-ninny]

purplefreak13 said:

I love it!!!! MORE!!!! *please*

trying. I'll post more when I can.

any other comments. on characters, development of said characters, grammatical errors, spelling? ect. anything.

oh, and the character pics up there, is everyone okay with calling the girl with cat ears steph. I feel weird calling characters after people I know.

[Forum Administration]

Yeah, it's a perfectly normal name...

[herm-own-ninny]

okay, thanks!

[herm-own-ninny]

Here we are. A bit more

I hope you weren't confused with that last one.

oh, and because you guys don't seem to say much more than "I want more" I'll ask you direct questions.

1) what was you impression of Phill.
2) does the physical discription match the pic I posted. (is it at least similar)
3) fav. parts?

**update** total is now 26 pages (I haven't even posted half of it yet)



Now that you are aware of it's short history for now, let's get back to the original story. I'll repeat the last line so you don't lose your place.



"Oh, becuase i have a hard time finding my way around Namrac."
"Is that so. well, I'm headed over to brown's books." I wasn't exactly sure who this guy thought he was, but he certainly wasn't getting by me. I tried to get an emotional reading on him, but he was blank. I wasn't sure how, but I didn't sense the tiniest tremor in the little radar in the back of my head. That was odd.
Really odd.
"Really!" He exclaimed excitedly, " I would love to go to a book store. I haven't been able to find one. Can I walk with you?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Well, will this change your mind." He reached behind his back, and pulled out a very large boquet of white roses. I was uterly surprized.
"How'd you..." I started to ask, then shook myself to my senses, " I mean, why white?"
"Do you like red roses better?" He reached back with his other hand, and pulled out a dozen roses. Still completely mezermized, I managed to pull myself together and say I prefered yellow and salmon pink ones. He nodded in apology, handed me the other two boquets, reached back, and pulled out yet another boquet, just as I had asked for.
"Wow!" I gasped. They were positively gorgeous, and wonderfully arranged with little tiny white flowers and furns weaved in. To top it all off, they smelled simply divine. Unable to stop myself, I finally finished asking how he did it.
He simply smirked and replied, "A magician never reveals his secrets. Now, can I walk with you to the book store."
I still don't understand why I said what I said. Maybe I had gone temperearily crazy, or maybe because of his charm. I might even go as far to say that he cast some sort of spell on those yellow and salmon pink colored roses. Whatever the cause, I still replied, "Okay."
He smiled broadly, and I lead the way on my H-board, with him following me like a lost dog, eager for a slab of meat.
"You never told me your name," I stated matter-of-factly.
"You never asked for it." I glared at him momentarily, and he continued, "However, my name is Phillip Henderson. Just call me Phill. Now, what's your name, I wonder,"
"Iris Bazzare, but just call my Izzy, or Izz. Everyone does."
"Izzy? Well, that's an interesting nickname for Iris. But then again, so is Bill for William." Phill added hastily after seeing the look on my face.
"So where exactly were you headed? You know, before I ran straight into you," I asked.
"Oh to meet someone down by the old clock tower, but I don't think I need to meet with them now."
"Why?"
"Well... I was going to ask them where I could find a book store, and practice my magic on them. As you see, I no longer need the assistance." Even without my head buzzing his emotions, i sensed he was lying.
Instead of bringing this up I asked, "Magic? Don't you mean magic tricks?"
"No. I mean magic." He had a small gleam in his eye, that I couldn't quite make out. If I could sense his emotion, this might have been easier, but of course, I didn't sense a thing. It wasn't for lack of trying though.
Slowly, we got there, just a few minutes before seven o'clock. I took out my key, and opened the door. It was dark inside, so I flipped on the lights. Phill looked around in awe, so I looked around too. Everything from the number of books (there were at least 300) to the atmosephere was perfect. Over to one side was a small fireplace (Mr. Brown had special permision for it) with a couple of squishy tan sofas and armchairs. On the otherside was a wrought iron table complete with matching chairs with cushon's made of the same material as the sofa's. The check out counter was relitively simple as to not take away from the row's upon rows of large books, some new, some antiques, All waiting for just the right someone to pluck them off the shelf. For the first time since my first week did I truely recognize the perfection of my work place.
I walked off to the register where I found a state of the art laptop computer. I opened the file that had the list of all the books on hand and printed it off on the small printer on the other side of the counter. Then I began to take account of all the books we have, checking them off as I went along. Phill followed at first, but then was taken to a few of the old antiques and went through those.
"You have a first edition "Harry Potter" set?"
"Yeah," I replied, not looking at him.
"Wow. I didn't know you could still find those. And in mint condition too! Woah! The Philosopher's stone is even signed by author J.K. Rowling!" He was like a kid in a candy shop. Slowly he worked his way over to the newer editions, still keeping in mind all of the old ones that still existed over in another section. Soon he was fingering all of the books, always careful not to damage them.
I was about done with inventory, when Mr. Brown himself appeared. He was a tall gentleman with slicked back grey hair, with grey eyes behind smart spectacles. He face suggested age, but the eyes told of wisdom and amusement. He held himself proud and dignified way that told you not to mess with the likes of him. Wearing a grey pinstriped suit, white button down shirt, and a dark red tie.
"Morning, Miss Bazzare," he greeted me, briskly, "and who might this young man be. He certainly doesn't work here. Is he of any relation to you, or perhaps the boyfriend!" He said with an amused twinkle in his eye. That didn't stop me from taking offense to his statement.
"Boyfriend, are you nuts? I just met him!"
"Ahh.. I see, so you randomly select young men off the street to come into my shop to finger through all the antique books here with their sticky fingers. I shall have to see what I can do about that."
"What! oh that's not what I meant." Crap. My mind raced. I hadn't thought anything through.
"So what did you mean?"
"I'm here for the job, sir," Phill interjected hastilly.
"The job?" Mr. Brown asked curiously. I didn't sense too much interest comming from him, just curiousity as to what Phill was going to say next.
"Yes, I saw your help wanted sign outside just as, what's her name..."
"Iris?" He said.
"Yeah, Iris. Just as Iris was coming in to open your fine establishment here. So I followed her in. She asked why, I told her, she told me,' you can wait over there,' " -he pointed over towards the fireplace and the sofas- " and at first I did, but I saw all these antique and started to browse. I was in no way damaging any of the merchendise. Just a tad restless."
"I see, well then, I'll get you an application form for you to fill out." I couldn't belive it. Mr. Brown bought it. not a single word of that whole speech was true and he bought it. I walked over to phill and whispered a quiet thank you while Mr. Brown got the form.
"It wasn't a problem, really. I really do want to work here."
"Thank you anyway."
After recieving the form Phill wandered over the the wroght iron table, grabbed a pen, and filled it out.
"I think I'll give him the spot." Mr. Brown commented to me.
"What!"
"Well why not. He's a charming young lad, with an abiding love of books. Reminds me of a much younger me."
'That is if you lied well when you were younger' I thought silently.
"You know, he reminds me a little of you when you applied here. Well, you weren't quite as charming, but you were forceful and, when you chose to be, pleasant. You loved books, I could see it in your eyes, they way they kept flittering back between me and them. Then I saw you on your trial day, and found you worked exceptionally hard and knew so much that you sold books like lightning."
"Really? I thought everyone worked that hard." Secretly I wondered weather Phill had supernatural hearing.
"I do belive the two of you will make a great team, and you will also keep your jobs for quite a while." In a flash, thoughtful Mr. Brown turned into buisiness man Mr. Brown. "Now, I have some paper work to do and phone calls to make. If anyone needs me, make sure they are comfortable, 'cause they will be waiting for a while." With that, he left for the back room.
I walked over to Phill.
"We are very similar."
"We also just met." 'I knew he had supernatural hearing.'
"So we did," he agreed.
"I can't belive you lied!"
"Why?" he asked, amusement playing in his voice.
"Because it's wrong to lie, even if it benefits other people."
"Who'd it bennifit. I was looking out for myself. After all It was in my interest to get this job. I like books, I get to see you whenever you happen to work at the same time I am, as well as I get money. Do tell me who eles it could have bennifitted, Izz."
"Me!"
"You! Well, then that's just a perk in anycase, that lie didn't hurt anyone, so why are we bothering with this nonsensical argument about morality."
I couldn't think of a thing to say. That is to say, I couldn't think of a reasonable argument. I managed to say something along the lines of "Piss off." and stalk off angrily.
I sold a few books, and told a few stories that went into the books as well as why I loved that perticular one so much, and by the end of my shift, Phill had walked off, of course not without buying that "Harry Potter" set. It cost him a pretty penny, too.
Anyway, I was just about to close the store when some elderly lady walks in. She had the greying frizzled hair all pulled back in a sloppy bun, and feirce brown eyes. In an air that said quite frankly, "get out of my way" in a lazy, semi crazy way. She walked over to the couch and sat. The waves in the air were buzzing rappidly. Tired, frustrated, confused.
"Um... Ma'am?" I asked, unsure of I was supposed to do, "We're kind of closing for the night."
"Are you now?" the old lady mused, "Well, I don't think that it will matter much if you wait a few minutes longer, after all, an old lady like me needs her rest. I've been looking and searching all day, and haven't found a thing."
"Searching for what?"
"I suppose I could have just barely missed them, or perhaps it was only one."
"One of who?"
"Well, something linger's here. It's certainly not like the last five times, and definately not like the last three that ended with nothing to show for all the work..."
"What are you talking about!" I yelled.
"I'm sorry, dear, did you think I was talking to you? No, no, no. I was just talking to myself, I hope I didn't disturb you." She waited for an answer. When she realized none was forthcomming, she continued talking nonsense to herself.
"I wonder what power this one might have..."
"Power?"
"I thought I told you...." She stopped in mid-sentence.
"What?"
"Did you eyes change color?"
"Umm... maybe? What's wrong with that?"
"Well, nothing, but..." She jumped up and headed for the door, "I'm afraid I must go. But, I will be back." she promised, and walked out the door.
"Well, that was weird." I commented to myself, and began closing the store again.
As soon as I had finished, I headed over to one of the government offices, in this case, a post office. They were the only places where you could call over to Earth. It was, like the rest of the city, a relatively new building, completely white, and had a sort of forboding that made one usually think twice before going in. I hustled in, pushing my way to the line in front of the long distance phones, and waited for my turn.
The phones, aren't exactly what you would call high quality. The visual screen was fuzzy, and often became blocky and freeze up. In fact, I don't recall a time when the screen worked perfectly. The phone reception was a little fuzzy, kinda like talking into a cheep cell. Sometimes it would stop completely, and you would have to dial again, which could take afew more minutes, and cost a little bit more, but since there was no other way that technlogy would allow at this point, we would all have to make due with what was given to us.
"Hey!" I shouted in surprise, as some one bumped into me on my way in through the glass doors in front.
"Sorry," a boy with short golden red hair called back apologeticly, continueing on his route. 'Some people.' I thought, before I too continued onward.
It was a long wait before I was toward the front of the line, but, knowing from experience, it could have been worse. Once I stood in line for about two and a half hours just to talk for about five minutes.
Sooner or later, I got to the front, and dialed the number for the earth operator.
"Hello, phone opperator, to whom and where might I connect your call?" came the vaguely bored voice over the speaker.
"Hi there, ummm... where was it."
"Come'on missy, time doesn't wait for everyone," the voice whinned.
"St. Theresa's community hospital in West town," I replied a little too quickly.
The voice paused, then said, "And to whom is this for?"
"Either Lilly or Samuel Bazzare."
"Connecting."
I waited a few minutes before a hazy picture came into veiw, and a voice came over the speaker.
"Mom?"
"Iris? Iris, is that you?" the woman asked. She had cut her hair so it fell just below her ears, her dark brown eyes looked into the screen on the other side, as if trying to decide if I really was there. When once she would have appeared small and delcate, she now looked frail and tired. Her skin took on a greyish tinge, and her mouth looked redder and redder.
"Yeah, it's me. How are you?"
She sighed. "Tired. they keep doing all these tests on us, but nothing's working. I'm sorry I haven't been able to send the Hart's the next payment..."
"Mom, they've already told you, you don't need to. They are your friends, after all."
"Yes, but I don't feel right about leaving you there."
"Then why did you let me go?"
"Because I had no other choice, Iris! Surely you must realize that by now!" She paused. "I'm sorry, dear, I promised I wouldn't yell."
"It's okay," I murmered. "How's dad?"
She sighed. "Today's one of those bad days. When the nurse came to tell us we had a call From Namrac, he couldn't even get up. By the way, he sends his love."
"Are the doctors sure..."
"Yes." There was a long uncomfortable silence.
"Well, I'll let you go. I'm sure you have alot you have to do."
"Yeah."
"Oh, and Iris."
"Yeah?"
"Happy Birthday, dear."
"Thanks. Bye."
I hung up the phone, and the picture disappeared. I stood there for a moment. Perhaps a moment to loong, because the guy behind me shouted,"Hey, missy! We want to talk too."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I replied, pushing past him.

[Forum Administration]

very nice. The story's very developed now and moving very smoothly.

[herm-own-ninny]

thank you. any other comments (seeing as you seem to be the only one to comment on story development and such)

What did you think of phil?

[Forum Administration]

Phill is interesting...I'm not sure what I think of him as a person yet, but he seems like quite a well-developed character-do you have a background history for him? It's important to know where all your characters come from, and the events that might have shaped their views of the world.

[herm-own-ninny]

It's not completed yet. I have a couple things figured out, but other than that, I still have some work to do.

[herm-own-ninny]

Seriously, you guys. Be brutal! Maybe I should put this on gaia. They are much pickier. Except that I can't get onto my gaian account. *pout* oh well.

any way, I decided to post more. I am having trouble cutting the next bit so I may cut it in yet another odd spot. I don't want to post all of it just yet.

Sorry about the many grammitcal and spelling errors.

Q:
1) what do you think of Angie? What is your innitial impression.
2) " " of the heart family?
3) what did you think of Iris's parents in the last section?

[glow=green,2,300]Enjoy[/glow]


"SURPRISE!!!!" the three Harts-all wearing cardboard party hats- screamed when I walked into the living room an hour after leaving "Brown's Books"
"Happy Birthday, Izzy!" Angie Hart sang, running over to give me a large hug. Angie looked very much like her father, Mr. Hart. Her long, curly blonde hair reached the middle or her back, and her bright blue eyes showed her happy bubbly personality. She had a small build, and was remarkably thin, considering how much food she comsumed. As her usual, she was dressed in a pair of knee high multi-colored socks, a pair of red converse all-stars high tops, a pink knee length skirt and a white t-shirt.
"Happy birthday," Mrs. Hart said sweetly, handing me a cardboard party hat, identical to the one they all were wearing. Mrs. Hart worked in the government as one of the few high counselors, mostly lobbying for the common peoples ideals. She was one of the most outspoken about their issues, along with what the city needs more. The other two, from the storyies she told of the office, were more of the political aids to the Prime Minister. She had brilliant blonde hair, and twinkling green eyes. She was tall and feminine, even in the charcoal suit skirt. She had a way about her, maybe it was her stance or posture, that made you know for sure that she was the boss, but she would never say that out loud. Work aside, she was a very caring person. After all, she had agreed to take me in.
"Thank you!" I said gratefully.
"It wasn't any trouble. We know how you don't like alot of people, so we didn't invite anyone."
"But there are presents," Angie told me excitedly. She always liked giving presents more than reciving them, although, she never minded being on the recieving end once in a while.
Angie grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the dinning room table, where there was a considerable pile of presents. My jaw dropped, and I could sense Angie's excitement, at the look on my face.
"Go on, open one."
"Which one?" I asked, gazing at the largest one in perticular.
"The one you're staring at." She smiled happily.
It was a square thin box, wrapped in bright wrapping paper and a white bow. Without waiting for a go ahead, I ripped off all that pretty wrapping.
"oh my god!" I gasped, holding the top of the line H-board with and electric blue band of light running across its sides. It's circular shape could be expanded and moved. The metal was thin enough that it was flexable, but strong enough that it wouldn't break with anything less than a bullet. In the center was a sea blue gel circle that provided comfort as well as speed and execelent steering capability. It was far more stylish and effective than my current H-board.
"You like?"
"This model hasn't even come out yet!" I replied looking at the box, which read H-B 523.
"I pulled some strings," Mrs. Hart told me. "The counselor had some buissiness with the company and asked for a quick favor. They were glad to let me have it."
"Do you know what this means?" Angie asked, exitedly.
"No, what?" I replied.
"I can have your old one!" she squeeled hapily. I laughed heartily, wondering why she was so eager to take my old one instead of a new one. I asked her exactly that.
"Because I can," she replied cheerfully. I laughed again, and went on to open up a couple of replacement gel circles for my new H-board, a couple of books I had been wanting to buy but haven't had the means, and couple of movies.
"Now for cake," Mr. Hart stated, leading the way to the kitchen, where a double layered cake with chocolate frosting, blue lettering with the words "Happy Birthday, Izzy!" were written in fancy colligraphy, and fifteen candles stood in a row on top stood in wait for me.
"Wow! You didn't make this, did you Mrs. Hart?"
"No, Mr. Hart did. He had a little time today, considering he didn't have work today," she replied, nudging her husband teasingly.
"Well, technically, you didn't either, but you wanted to get some files done."
"True."
"Well," Angie said impatiently, " are we, or aren't we going to eat this."
"Yes, of course," they both chorused.
"Then let eat, preferably before it turns stale," angie said, cracking a smile.
I blew out the candles without wishing for anything in perticular. After all, what could I possibly want. I was living with some of the kindest people in the world, mom and dad were getting top of the line treatment (thanks to the generosity of the Hart family), I had a new H-board that went to even faster speeds than before (according to the box, anyway) and I was getting great grades. I honestly couldn't think of a thing that could have improved.
Except having this stupid "condition", but even that hadn't been so bad lately, and there really isn't much you can do about it.
We my favorite cake, angel food, and vannilla ice cream, as well as sausage and pineapple pizza (I know it sounds gross, but it's delicous!) Then we talked for a while, and then crept off to bed. As I sank into my plump fluffly bed, I slowly driffed off to sleep, thinking about the ordinary day I would have tomorrow.
How wrong I was




"Good morning, Izzy," my alarm clock sang the next morning. Thankfully, it wakes me up later on Sundays. It was only 7:30.
"Morning," I replied, pressing the snooze button on the wall. Automatically, the blinds separated like they only do on Sunday. It certainly was bright out.
I went through my morning motions. I even ate breakfast with the Harts. (They usually eat real food, not the fake stuff I do. And a lot of it!) You see, I don't have to be at work until around 9:30.
"Heading off soon, Izzy?" Mrs. Hart asked, biting into her toast.
"Yep, in about five minutes."
"Can I come?" Angie inquired.
"Sure, you do have my H-board."
"Yes I do!" she responded happily, "That way if I get bored, I can quick come home."
"Or," Mr. Hart interjected," you can make it to a safe building if we get a sandstorm today. They said we might get a small one on the news this morning."
"Natrally." I looked at my watch. "we'd better head out," I told Angie, who nodded in response. I got up and called back, "bye"
"Bye! Oh, and don't forget to turn in the temporary guardianship renewal form."
"Okay, bye!"
"Bye," Angie called waving back.
We walked to the garage, put on helmets and pads. I stepped on my new board. It lifted slightly and hummed softly as the blue gel pad lit up. This was definitely far superior to my old one.
I watched as Angie stepped on her, the circle didn't light up immediately, and it hummed a bit louder. Actually, to be honest, it was more like a purr than a hum.
"race you?" I smirked.
"The long way?"
"Of course."
"Kay, let's GO!"
At the moment of "go" we stepped harder on the gel pad and the board accelerated. I felt the wind breeze through my hair and almost closed my eyes for a moment, but then remembered that we were racing. I stepped on a button that I assumed was the handle button.
Nope, it was the stop button. Angie passed me quickly and with ease, as i struggled to figure out my new board.
"What, giving up so easily?" she called back, laughing.
"No!" I yelled back indignantly, then jumped hoping that it would start again. It did, thankfully, and I speed up. I pressed a differant button with my foot, again, hoping that it was the handles. It wasn't, but it appeared to make me faster than before, so I kept my foot on it for a bit.
suddenly, the board slowed down and I took my foot off it. Now I really needed the handles, my board was going out of control. I pressed the third button and a bar and handles folded out and. Thank God! She was about ten feet ahead of me. I pressed the button I knew was the accelerate button and speed up slightly.
Ahead of me, angie swearved at the corner. That was the wrong corner! I was going to win! I thought breifly of taking the rest of the way at an easy pace but decided against it. Maybe i would get a personal best today. Besides, you never knew if she was going taking a short cut. I checked the gps map on the handles.
It was!
Crap!
I went faster than I thought possible, causing the wind to practically pull my face off. It was cold, I I'm pretty sure I looked like an idiot. I didn't perticularly care though, seeing as how I totally missed the short cut turn that we always took. Something was wrong with me that day.
Anyway, I sped as fast I could on that H-board. By the time I got onto the little street on which I saw angie just ahead of me.
Almost there. Just a bit further. I'm right on her tail, and...
...she won.
So I did what everyone who has just been beaten should do. I congradulated her.
"Thanks, Izz. I'm sure you'll beat me next time."
"Yeah, sure. Just as long as I don't press the wrong buttons this time."
"Yeah, don't do that any more," she agreed heartily, and we laughed the last bit of our adrenilin rush away. Feeling a tad tired, I walked over to the door to unlock it, but found it already unlocked.
"What the..." I marveled, staring into the dark window.
"What?" I told her. "But that's absurd."
"I know. It can't be Brown, he is almost never here before I am, and when he is..."
"He leaves the lights on," Angie finished.
"Exactly."
"Well, no sense in waiting out here. Let's go inside." I agreed. We could figure it out later. Angie bounded in, appearently not any more suspicious than a flower before being trodded on.
Dispite my condition I still couldn't figure Angie out. But that was half the fun. She turned back toward me, and said, "grey blue."
I waved off her comment --She often randomly said what color my eyes were at any given moment-- stepped inside, and turned on the light.
Crash, boom, clutter clatter, I heard coming from the back room.
"Hello?" I asked apprehensively.
"Morning, Izz!" I voice called back. I didn't sense any waves from the back of my head, which could only mean one thing...
"Morning, Phill," I sighed. Angie gave ma a quizical look, that I quickly pushed aside. She would find out soon enough.
So out came Phill, practically bleeding exicement from his pores (I mean this in appearence, not by the waves. I still hadn't a clue how he hid those from me.)
"Who are you?" Angie asked, bluntly in her happy-to-meet-you sort of way.
"Phillip Henderson," he replied smiling, " and you are..."
"Angilina Hart," she replied, trying to keep with his formalness, but obviously not doing well, considering the huge smile that spread across her face. "Did you you recently get the other post?"
"As a matter of fact I did. Oh, hey, Izz!" he said, turning his attention to me.
"What?"
"You forgot your flowers yesterday. I took the liberty of putting them in a vase." Angie looked thunder struck. It wasn't out of jealosy, I can assure you. More out of shock that I hadn't told her a boy had given me flowers.
"Ooo, I wanna see 'em, I wanna see 'em," she demanded, jumping up and down. Phill ran to the back room to go get the flowers.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Angie wanted to know, as soon as she was sure Phill was out of earshot.
"Tell you what?" I replied as innocently as I could.
"That you met a cute guy."
"What! Phill is not that cute!"
"Yeah, he is. In anycase, you should have at least told me that a guy gave you flowers. How long did you know him before hand?"
"About two minutes."
"What!" She was stunned.
It was at this point that Phill decided to come back.
"Here you are, red, white, yellow, and salmon colored roses, all in one large pretty vase," he said, doing a little flourish with his free hand.
"Thanks," I replied, spotting Angie giving one of those all knowing looks.
"And you!" he went on, turning on Angie, You deserve some flowers too."
"Huh?" she squeeked, blushing profusely.
"Flowers, a girl should never be without 'em. Nor should a guy pass any oppertunity to give them. Now, what kind would you like?"
"Umm, yellow daisies?" she answered meekly. He raised his eyebrows as if to say 'is that all?', and reached behind his back. I would have reminded him that I was standing right behind him, only I really wanted to see how he conjured them. Unfortunately, he seemed to have noticed this before he preformed his trick.
"Now, now, no peeking. A magician never reveals his secrets." With that he ushered me to where angie was standing, now completely mesmerized. He reached behind his back and pulled out a boquet of bright yellow daisies, as promised.
Angie was now completely inammered.
"How? How? How..."
Phill put his fingers to his lips, "Shhhh.. It's a secret. Now, I belive we have some work to do, Izz. C'mon." He motioned for me to follow,and I grudgingly obeyed. We went into the back room where we unloaded some new shipments and started inventory.
About half way through the boxes, He stopped me.
"What?"
"Were you offended?"
"What?"
"Were you offended?" he repeated.
"By what?" I hadn't a clue what he was referring to.
"Never mind." he set to work again, only now I wouldn't drop it. It's a pet peeve of mine. When you start a conversation and just tell the other person to forget it, it's kind of pointless.
"Seriously, tell me."
"Seriously, forget it."
"No, you brought it up, so you need to continue it."
"Where is it written?"
"Why are you being so defensive?"
"Where is it written?"
"Why are you being defensive?" This continued for a few minutes, neither answering The other's question.
"Look," he began, "It's stupid, so I don't feel the need to continue."
"What is it?"
"I had asked, if you were offended by me giving Angie flowers and not you."
"That's stupid."
"Told you."
"No, no, not that. The fact that you wouldn't tell me that. It took us like five minutes for that. That is what's stupid."
"So, my question wasn't stupid?"
"No, it was... sweet."
"Miss Bizzare, Mr Henderson." I heard some one call.
"Morning, Mr. Brown," we called in almost perfect unison., which in itself was creepy enough, but then Mr. Brown had to make that comment.
"Would the love birds please come out of the back room." I was furious.
"We are not lovebirds! I am not dating him, nor will I ever! I swear the next person who suggests that we will ever be like that...." I left it hang for dramatic effect.
"Who else suggested that?" Phill asked, following in my wake.
Again, I spoke too quickly. "Ummmm..."
"Me?" Angie asked in her best fake innocent voice. "Why I have no idea where you would get such an idea, Iris." I'm not sure if she has any shame.
"Oh, I see."
There was a slight silence where the three of us just stood there, though, I don't know if Angie even noticed it or not. Mr. Brown, on the other hand, was busy checking our work and the sales board. After which, he quickly turned around and snapped at us to get to work.
"What am I paying you for? Get to work." Then we had no choice but to get to work. Angie offered to help numerous times; stacking books, un loading boxes, it didn't matter. She just wanted to help. Though, this was far from unusual, she seemed to keep pushing me and phill together. This was annoying, since he was doing his best to stay out of my way. I assumed that Angie made him a little embarrased.
"Angie, can you grab that book for me," I called from a ladder.
"Couldn't Phill get it?"
"Angie! He's busy," I called back, not mentioning his apparent avoidence of me.
"Fine." she got up from her comfortable spot on the couch and grabbed the book off the small wrought iron table. When she stood on her tip-toes to give me the book ,after all, she isn't that tall, I hissed, "will you please stop pushing Phill at me. I can tell he doesn't want to talk."
"No, you guys are too cute together." I rolled my eyes. Cute was far from the word that came to my mind.
"Iris?" Mr. Brown yelled from his office in the back room.
"Yeah?"
"Can you run out and get us all some lunch?"
"Sure, Mr. Brown, what do you want?"
"Oh, use your imagination, Iris."
"Okay," I called, motioning for Angie to join me. She hesitated for a moment or two, but was quickly bounding after me. Boards in hand we raced down the street as quickly as we dared.

[songbreese]

So...people are really going to wear converse all-stars and t-shirts 10 centuries from now? No offense, but you're not getting across the futuristic universe too well. You keep throwing in random things that are so rediculusly 21st century. Also, there's a bunch of technology that we take for granted-books for instance-that most likely will be gone in a century or 2, not to mention 10.
My suggestion, change the time. Do you really need to make this take place 1000 years from now? I think this could easily be accepted as the 23rd century, including making those changes I just suggested. 1000 years is just too far into the future, think about the technological advances from 1000 CE to now. Or just 1800 CE til now.

[herm-own-ninny]

I'm not good at the future. Maybe you can help me. I wanna keep the books in any way. We have computers, yet we still have books out. In anycase, I can't imagine a world without books, can you?

The reason for this time was I heard somewhere that it would take that long to terra-form mars. Perhaps I can take some creative liberties with it. I tried to have it make sense.

Where did I put the converse all-star's in? I don't even remember that. *laughs to self*

Thanks for telling me. I wouldn't have noticed that stuff. See everybody. This is what I want you guys to tell me.

[songbreese]

Well, paper is so fragile and brittle and flamable. You'd think that in 1000 years we could come up with something better to write stuff on, or record information. I have many ideas on how exactly you could replace it, but it's your story, so I'll let you figure it out.

[herm-own-ninny]

what are your ideas? Maybe the book store is kinda like an antique shop and most modern books are on a carriable electronic device?

[twilight_angel]

see i don't have that much time online so i would appriciate a printed copy or something of the sort like it saved on one of my floppy disks that i can load on my computer...in my room...that doesn't have internet ascess.

[herm-own-ninny]

blackabyss said:

see i don't have that much time online so i would appriciate a printed copy or something of the sort like it saved on one of my floppy disks that i can load on my computer...in my room...that doesn't have internet ascess.

sure. I'll get right on that.

[herm-own-ninny]

Please review, and not the pathetic excuse for reviews either i want to know how much needs to be revised? what doesn't make sense? are the characters out of character? what do you think should happen next?
HELP ME OUT HERE!!!!!

have fun with this next bit of Iris.

by the way, the ending of this is how it's supposed to be. Don't be freaked out by the cliff hanger.

"Where to?"
"How 'bout that new place, what's it called?"
"I don't have a clue what you are talking about."
"Oh, well, just as well. We'll find something. Ready for our rematch?" I asked.
"Don't we need a destination?" she replied, narrowly missing running into a tree.
"Fine, McDonalds?"
"Sure, why, not?" With that decicion made, we began our race again.
I would tell you all the details except that it was nothing exciting. I won and Angie, graciously renounced her temporary title as H-board winner of the week. We grabbed a couple burgers and headed back.
Then the sirens went off.
The sirens were placed in the early part of Namrac's existance as a settlement a few years back as a warning system for incomming sand storms. On a good day, you usually had a five minute warning to get to a building.
Today, however, the megaphone voice announced that it was a one minute warning.
I knew it was more than a minute H-board ride back, no matter what speed we took.
"What now?" Angie asked, knowing about as much as I did.
"we take shelter at that store."
"The grocery store?"
"Yeah, got a problem?"
"No."
"Good. Let's go." I quickly turned to turn towards the grocerystore, however, I wasn't the only one to think to go in there. A mass of people crowded around the entrance, the sirens wailing in the background.
"I don't think we'll get in. We have to find another place."
"Like where? Every other place is just as packed." I saw her eyes flitter over to a small shop.
"Oh, no. We are not going there, it's probably full up."
"Let's take our chances." With that, she grabbed my hand and headed down the street. Amazingly enough, the shop wasn't crowded at all. In fact, it seemed practically empty, and oddly familiar.
There were elaborate tapestriest covering all the walls and a roaring fireplace over to the side. Tables were set up with hundreds of objects that I didn't have a name for, along with scented candles and incence for sale. The cherry wood floor was almost bare save for a small rug by the fire place. It was so cozy and warm. It was hard to belive that just outside, sirens were sounding as the storm approched.
"Glad we came in?" There was a slight note of smugness both in her voice and in the overtones in the waves, so I said nothing. Instead, I looked closer at some of the objects.
They were rather curious objects. Certainly, they weren't things that you would normally find in a shop. There were jars containing substanses that I didn't even want to know the name of. There were various staffs with differant orbs on the tops. A couple Crystal Balls adorned a few of the tables. Each object had a price.
I looked at the window, and watched the metal sheet close over the glass. I saw the same thing happen to the door. We were going no where for a while.
"How'd you get in here?" a voice demanded from the back of the room. I spun around, and angie emmited a small squeek.
"What?"
"How'd you get here," the voice repeated. It came from a tall elderly woman. Her feirce brown eyes glared at me. Her frizzy greying hair hung around her face. The air was buzzing so much from her anger it was practically burning.
It wasn't possible. I accidentally stumbled into the crazy lady from yesterday.
"I walked in through the door." I replied, trying to keep my emotions down. It wasn't as if there were any lack of emotions in the room. Beside me, Angie's emotions pulsed fear and confusion. I honestly didn't blame her.
The old woman's anger was soon mixed with confusion and disbelife.
"That's not possible. That door doesn't usually open to normal people," I noticed that she was staring at Angie.
"Explain."
"Is she to be trusted?"
Now I was completely lost.
"What the hell are you talking about, lady?" I demanded, trying to keep as much anger out of my voice as possible.
"You don't know?" She looked at me, puzzlement surrounding her. She sat on one of the couches, deep in thought. The waves were now becoming less intense. I snensed she was sorting out what had happened. I myself was also trying to work it out.
Nothing added up. What did she mean the door doesn't open to normal people? And what was that thing about trusting angie. Did she expect me to know something?
One thing was for sure; she was crazy.
"Are you going to explain or not?" Angie demanded. Her fear had dissapeared, replaced by impatients. Her blue eyes looked fiercer than I had ever seen them.
The old woman looked up, surprized by Angie's bluntness, then stared at her quizzically. No doubt wondering weather she should say anything in front of her. In the end, she decided not to decide.
" 'Liza!" she yelled on the top of her lungs. Angie and I exchanged confused looks.
"What is it?" another voice called from the back room. It was slightly strangled, as if the owner was carrying something heavy.
"Get out here." There was a loud thud.
"Be right there." We heard a few more loud thuds, a couple bangs, and even a clatter. Then the back door flew open, and out came a face that I was sure I had seen before. I just couldn't quite place it yet.
She had a small build, with brown hair that had a fair amount of grey, and her brown eyes had a look of caring concern. She looked as though she belonged to a differant time period. Why couldn't I remember where I saw her before.
"What is the matter, Gretchen?" she inquired.
"These two just appeared in the shop!"
"Did they appear out of no where?"
"Well, no..."
"Then what is the problem? I am sure that they just wanted to get indoors before the storm arrived here."
"Eliza, I'd already closed the door."
That was it! She was Miss Eliza, the shop keeper from so many years ago. But this was the same shop. I recognized it. How was that even possible? It had appearently not existed, even those many years ago. My head was already spinning.
Miss Eliza stared at Gretchen, at the two of us, at the door, and then at Gretchen again. "That is not possible," she said.
"Exactly what I said," Gretchen replied briskly.
"Well, let us try to remain calm. As calm as it is possible in any case. Now, Gretchen, which set did you close?"
"The second of them. I didn't want any one coming in. I understand the first girl comming, but the second one shouldn't have been able to get through."
"Is anyone going to explain anything?" Angie butted in.
"There must have been a way for them to get through, otherwise this means the door wasn't closed all the way."
"Oh, it was closed. I heard a click."
"'scuse me. We are right here!" I called.
"Well, perhaps the lock is wearing out," Miss Eliza suggested.
"Maybe. We'll have to replace it. Even if that isn't the promlem."
"EXCUSE ME!" I yelled. 'Geeze, doesn't anyone listen?' I thought angrily. The two of them finally looked at us. I couldn't be sure but I could have sworn I saw (and felt) the slightest glimmer of recognition from Miss Eliza.
"What?" Gretchen asked rather bluntly.
"Are you going to explain what your talking about or not. What's the big deal? The door wasn't locked, and there is a storm outside."
"You are not fit to -"
"Gretchen, please!" Eliza interrupted. She studied Angie and me for a moment, and then continued. "These girls are certainly fit to know. After all, if what you say is true, then they deserve to know what we are talking about." She walked over to the door. "To begin with, this is no ordinary door, and this lock is no ordinary lock.
"This room, this building, is in many places all at once. This door, opens up to them, but only when pointed to that specific place. It was a complicated thing to construct and it is also hard to relocate, however it is useful.
"One place is in your hometown, Iris. Yes, I remember you, as you no doubt have discovered. There are also entrances in several other spots on Earth. The last one is opened rarely and may be opened for you at a differant time. It all depends on your answer."
"Answer to what?" Angie asked.
"I don't know." I wasn't speaking to Angie. I knew the question, and I bet you do too.
Miss Eliza stood there, staring at me expectantly. "I told you I don't know. It's not like last time," I continued.
"What is differant?" Miss Eliza asked.
"What are we talking about?"
" I live with differant people. I'm older. My parents aren't doing so great right now. Take your pick. I have loads more."
"You don't live with your parents any more?"
"Hello? Still confused."
"Right. I live with Angie's parents."
"Whose Angie?" Gretchen asked quickly before Miss Eliza or myself could continue.
"Me," angie told her.
"I see," Miss Eliza half to herself and half to me. At this point both Miss Eliza and myself were mostly oblivious to the other two. I could sense their impatients as they tried to get into our conversation.
"Yeah, I can't just up and leave them after all they've done for me."
"I can understand that." She paused. For once, the other two were quiet as well. "Will you consider my offer."
"I guess." I stared at my feet. I didn't know what to say. I felt bad with either decision. If I stayed with Miss Eliza, I would be leaving the Harts. After all they had done for me, I would feel guilty doing nothing for them in return. If I continued to stay with the Harts I would constantly wonder what might have happened if I had gone.
Well, couldn't I still visit with the Harts. Maybe Angie and I wouldn't be the best of friends, but we could still be friends, right? It's wasn't like we were living all that far apart.
"What offer?" Angie yelled. Miss Eliza looked at her as if she just noticed her presence. I looked up too, just to see Angie's reaction.
"To come stay here, of course."
Angie froze. It was obvious to me that she didn't like what she was hearing, but it probably would have been obvious to anyone, not just me and my "super-power". Her mouth just hung open for a bit, but then she realized it was open and promptly shut it. Then she stared at me in her generally confused and annoyed way.
I went back to staring at my feet. I was now feeling very guilty. Why was I even considering leaving the Harts? They would be crushed dispite the minimal distance. It would be like turning my back on them.
But hadn't they always encouraged me to do what I wished? Hadn't they always said that if I would be happy, I could live in another place. The temporary guardianship form was due in a few weeks...
My mind kept flipping between one side to the other without resting on either one for long. All the while that this debate in my head went on, Angie was
"Wait, how did Izzy know about this offer?"
"Izzy?"
"Iris." Angie waved her hand dismisively. "Answer the question."
"I met her a long time ago. In this shop, acctually, but the entrance was elsewhere"
"Oh. Did you make that offer then?"
"Yes."
"And..."
"Care to finish your sentance, Angie?"
"What was her answer?"
This continued on in much the same way as I continued to think. Finally, I decided that I needed time to think about it.
"You've taken far too much time, if you ask me," Gretchen muttered.
"Of course," Miss Eliza replied, ignoring Gretchen, "I would have expected nothing less. You probably need to speak to your current guardians. Perhaps....hmmm..." she cut off, deep in thought.
"They can't leave yet!" Gretchen declared.
"Why not?"
"The storm is still raging on outside."
"How do you know? The door and window system is still up."
"The lock down system is automatic and goes down when the storm goes down. Obviously, the storm still rages on. It could be ages before it's even safe to go out. But if you want to go outside and get yourself killed, please, don't hesitate!" Gretchen barked back.
"Gretchen, please settle down," Miss Eliza said nurturingly, "They are obviously very nervous in your presence, and are probably anxious to get home."
"Acctually we should be back at the shop," I corrected. Then I stopped. "Wait a minute!. Angie, where are the sandwiches we bought for lunch." Crap! I was so caught up in this new drama that I had completely fogotten why we were out in the first place.
She was silent for a moment, her mouth opened up as if to speak and was quickly shut. "Oh..." was all she managed to say.
"Well, reguardless you aren't getting anywhere in this storm. I could..." Miss Eliza's voice trailed off. I didn't want to hear her idea. I didn't want to be near anybody. My own thoughts and feelings were enough with out the constant buzz of everyone else's feelings.
"Mizz Eliza?" I asked, tiredly flopping onto on of the squishy arm chairs.
"Yes."
"Explain to me what would happen if I stayed here."

[songbreese]

You need to proofread. There's a bunch of spelling mistakes. i.e.-twice you spelled "impatience" like "impatients".

And all that diolouge and the end is kinda confusing. I can't tell who's talking at what point and what about. A little more clairification there would be nice.