One: I'm working on a new story (preview below) and I have an idea for another one on top of that called "Tracer". I have concept art right here for Tracer's big antagonist, Recluse.
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(Yes it is a spider woman. Her height is roughly 10 feet tall, which is quite tall)
Two: I'm grounded...yet again........I'm sorry. It's my grades. BUT in 3 weeks, I'm getting my phone back. I'll TRY to use my tablet or laptop when I can to check on you guys, but I don't want a big fuss. It's only 3 weeks. What could go wrong, right? (famous last words)
Anyways, here is a preview of the new story "The Girl of 22 Ridgeluck". It is a ghost story, so have fun!
The Girl of 22 Ridgeluck
Flutterbat276
Prologue
She ran around her home, dog chasing her in her short summer dress of pale yellow. Her strawberry blonde curls flowed behind her as she giggled and laughed away. No one would expect little Rosemary Jones, the girl living on 22 Ridgeluck Avenue in the small town of Ginger, to be ill. She had an illness that had no cure at the time. It was fatal, but the girl lived her days as any eleven year old would. Laughing and playing all day long.
Rosemary, the young, kind beauty of Ginger spent this day, August 17, 1911, running and playing with the family dog, Ollie, as her parents, Mariam and George, looked on. They had a severe worry for their young daughter, but they hid it well. They hadn't told young Rosemary of her illness, nor did they plan to. They did not want her to worry about her inevitable demise. A girl that young should only have to worry about playing with her friends and dolls and dogs, practically care free, needing not to worry about death. Yet Rosemary had no clue that her death would be in her own home on September 9 that year, as she lay in bed, sound asleep with no idea that she would pass.
Mariam had her sleeping daughter's hand in one hand, the other trying to wipe away tears. That had been the way it was for weeks. She looked to her husband, George, on the opposite side of the girl's bed, doing the same thing. He reached over and grabbed Mariam's tear coated hand and held it across Rosemary's lap. Oh how innocent and sweet the child was. She had many friends, a happy life, intelligence, and beauty. Her father's eyes, her mother's smile, all coming to an end. She was such a kind soul, and what shame it was that God were taking it away from the world that night as her parents sat beside her, praying with tears falling from their eyes.
Then, at 10:27 pm, her last breath was breathed, her last heart beat beaten, and the final "I love you" from her parents spoken. It was done. Young Rosemary of 22 Ridgeluck Avenue in the small town of Ginger had passed, taken away from the world in God's arms.
