It's Not All As It Seems (will be rewritten)

Ace

*peaks head into room* *taps microphone* anyone herreeee? PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I AM SO SO SO SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER! I've just been really sad and busy and sad and busy and sad and busy. But good news, I am rewriting! (I haven't got farther than the first chapter, but its a super, super, super long chapter, so don't kill me) I haven't had much inspiration to continue writing and I was scared to check watt pad because my followers were decreasing and then I came on and noticed my story jumped up about five hundred reads and I kinda fainted and died because I never dreamed of it increasing so dramatically. I love you guys to bits and I really hope I can keep up writing every week because I miss doing it but I have very cruel teachers and I'm not a big procrastinator when it comes to homework because why procrastinate when you can finish your homework and do other stuff without having to worry about your homework? <words of wisdom.... anyways. I am in forever to your guys debt, so I shall update! Rewritten version of the story will start appearing (hopefully) by late spring! I won't finish my rewritten version by summer, so it would mean that you guys cannot read past the newest rewritten version until the new part has been added of the rewritten version because it is in third person. < If that makes any sense. And again, I am so sorry for not updating and I hope you guys understand. :) It's been a month and I am sincerely sorry, really am. Okay, 'nough rambling! I think I've lost my touch but here we goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! 

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The next morning, I stumbled down the long staircase leading to the dining hall. The long mahogany  table stretched across the room, chairs neatly placed in their spots, lined perfectly with the plate, cup, spoon, fork and knife. Every three feet  or so, a set of three candles was placed on top a small mat. Above the long table was a crystal chandelier that let down a warm glow upon the mahogany table. A bowl of fruit was placed at the ends of the tables and I grabbed an apple and settled down on one of the chairs, placing my feet on the brim of the table, munching on the apple as I waited for the rest to arrive for breakfast.

The smell of cooking eggs and smoked bacon wafted up to my nose and my stomach rumbled loudly, the sound echoing around in the empty room. Briskly getting up, I followed the smell into the kitchens, where a bustle of cooks and their helpers rushed around. One stopped long enough to shove a bowl of batter

Instead of arguing that I wasn’t working in the kitchens and was a guest, I took the spoon and started stirring the batter, my stomach grumbling loudly. But this time, instead of echoing in an empty room, it was muffled away by all the bustling around in the kitchens. The fire set of warm heat off into the kitchen, enveloping me in what felt like a warm hug. I was reminded of times my mother and I would make pancakes for my little sister. We’d shape them to look like Mickey Mouse; however once they were cooked they looked really ugly. But my sister loved them anyways and always pestered us to make more for her.

                To satisfy my grumbling stomach, I scooped a little of the batter with my finger and ate it. It was a little bitter, needed some more sweetness. I looked around for the sugar and spotted it by the ovens. I headed over and picked up the bag, tilting it to pour into the batter. Suddenly, someone bumped into me and the bag tilted more than it should of and I looked down in horror, for a small mountain of sugar was slowly dissolving into the batter. No one stopped to question why I wasn’t working, or didn’t give a second glance at me staring at the batter in horror. They were all too busy fixing breakfast for hundreds of guests and guards.

                I picked up some flour and poured it into the batter and ran around looking for ingredients that we used in batter. Milk, eggs, vanilla extract, water were all added into the batter, and I prayed that it wouldn’t be too sweet. Spotting some blueberries in a bowl not being used by anyone, I dumped that in the batter as well and stirred as much as I could. The batter was starting to pour a little over the bowl, but I didn’t care. When I was done, I approached the stoves and found a pan that was heating with three circle dividers. Claiming the pan as my own, I poured some batter into the pans and waited to flip the pancakes as they cooked.