GeschichtenerfinderinAna

Danke für's Folgen ❤️

Hallo, Schreibkollegen.
          
          Ich habe mich letzendlich dazu endschieden, meinen Krimi erst zu schreiben und dann zu veröffentlichen. Da ich auch an anderen Büchern schreibe, möchte ich mich vorerst erstmal darauf konzentrieren und wenn ich Zeit habe an dem Krimi weiterschreiben. Vorallem, da die Kapitel sehr viel Zeit benötigen und ich mich am Ende nicht gut fühlen würde, würde ich länger nicht updaten. 
          
          So, dass war es erstmal. 
          
          Auf ein fröhliches Wiederlesen.
          Eure Ana.

Hallo Schreibkollegen,
          
          Ich suche noch eine Adresse für eine kleine Dektei  in London, Nähe der Themse. Am besten auch noch einne Adresse in der Nähe. Es sollte eine mittelgroße bis kleine Straße sein.
          
          Wer eine Idee hat, seid bitte so freundlich und schreibt sie mir. Wenn sie für die Geschichte am Besten passt, dann verwende ich sie.

Heyyy

Ich werde demnächst das erste Kapitel  (meiner hoffentlichen Krimireihe) veröffentlichen.

The shards. Distributed everywhere. The glazed photo frames with the photos lay fragmented on the yellow carpet, as were the white roses, which distributed a sweet gerruch in the room. A sobbing person sat in the chaos and had his hands crossed in front of her face. Their hands were bleeding and a few pointed shards were in them. The person stepped against a vase with lilies on the floor. It splintered into a thousand pieces. Underneath the hood that hid her face and left her in the dark, a few black hairs came out. The person's sobbing became even louder. Trembling, she wraps her arms around her fragile body. Everything was destroyed. The pictures of them and their hearts. Words hit deeper than most people suspect. The now recognizable woman stretched her head to the sky and called a name heartbroken. The name that meant everything in the world to her. "Yuki! Don't leave me behind, I didn't mean it that way, I'm so sorry!" Her reddened eyes looked desperately at the grey blanket. But her yuki did not return to her. Words cut deeper into the flesh than most people think they know. Especially if they come from the person to whom his vulnerable heart has been entrusted.

It was a Saturday when Anni stood in front of the shiny mirror slackwith with a steel scissors. The lamp light only sparsely illuminated her petite face as she slowly lifted the scissors, with trembling hands. Annabell Marian Prisset. Little sister Max Prissets. And that was Anni's problem. She was just his little sister, everyone looked at her like that. Anni with her waist-length hair, which she combed in her face. Everyone thought they knew who she was. Anni was the girl who didn't dare to make anything special out of her life. At least that's what they thought of the fourteen-year-old. So inconspicuous. Anni looked at herself in the mirror and swallowed loudly. But she was sure of her plan. She would show it to everyone. She was Annabell Prissets. Not Anni or Bell. She was the Anabell Prisset and no one would doubt that if she pulled it through. With this thought, she put on the scissors on the hairat the height of the chin and cut without straightening the scissors. A few tears flowed down her pale cheeks and she closed her eyes as she continued to cut. The soft fluff of her hair spread in the sink and she opened her eyes. Shortly, her black pupils widened, but she grinned mockingly. She looked like she had plugged into an electric socket. Some strands stood off her head, some lay flat on her skull. Some would have screamed. But Annabell knew she was about to start a new life. With her head raised high, instead of the lowered, as so often, she proudly stused out of the bathroom and ignored the outcry that rang out as she more dignifiedly mashed denje in the school hallway. She grinned confidently at the terrified students and laughed. Because she was Annabell Prissets.

Wieso kann ich keine Musik im Hintergrund anspielen? 
          
          Richtig, weil arrogante Apps meinen meine ungeteilte Aufmerksamkeit zu brauchen.
          
          Apropos, ich schreibe an meinem ersten Krimi.

Hallo Wattpad.